


Epigraphy

by StormySkiesAhead



Category: Primeval
Genre: Alternate Universe - Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, Codependency and Cuddle Piles, Dinosaurs, Feral Cat Patrick Quinn, Gen, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Minor Character Death, Needs More Dinosaurs!, Sarah Page Lives, Trauma, background connor/abby, discussions of homophobic parents, just as an fyi, no beta we die like women, nothing too graphic but there are some descriptions, of violence, oh right there IS nigel marven in this fic, there is an aurochs and her name is betsy, this was supposed to be a short oneshot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-27
Updated: 2020-08-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:34:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 25,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26141203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StormySkiesAhead/pseuds/StormySkiesAhead
Summary: Epigraphy: the study or science of epigraphs or instructions, especially of ancient inscriptions.-Or: Sarah Page doesn't die however-many years in the future, and that makes all the difference.
Relationships: Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 4





	1. kindness, and its place

**Author's Note:**

> okay so this is going to be a bit weird when it goes up because i actually have everything written for once? Just... as is? basically none of this is edited aside from some minor consistency edits I remembered but you know what that's par for the course for my writing. if you are one of the however-many people who saw me absolutely screaming my way through this fic just know it's... it's done! i can actually work on my other projects now! may you have the same startling luck in your efficiency with this fic that I did, and best of luck in all your future endeavors.

_ “Miss?” the seven-year-old asks Evelyn Tien, looking up at her with wide brown eyes that have never failed to pull an “aww” out of the teacher, “Is Michael going to be alright?” _

_ Evelyn smiles. This one has always been sweet- she’s brilliant, of course, already in classes with children several years her senior, but she’s warm and kind to the other children first, and it’s not something that’s gone unnoticed. _

_ “Yes, he’ll be just fine,” she hums in reply. The girl nods sharply, but doesn’t go back to the other children. She likely won’t until she’s certain her friend is safe. The girl narrows her eyes, clearly thinking of something, and looks back up to Evelyn. _

_ “They said his arm was broken. How do they fix a broken arm, Miss? I know they put it in a cast, but what does it  _ do _?  _ Why _ do they put it in the cast?” _

_ “Never change, Sarah,” Evelyn replies with a laugh. Sarah breaks out into a smile, bright as the sun, and Evelyn can’t help but smile back. _

_ “Never change what?” _

_ “Well, you ask quite a few questions, dear, but you’re so terribly caring. Don’t change that.” _

* * *

Twenty-two years and several degrees later, and Sarah kind of wishes she had.

It’s been… difficult, to say the least. If she’s being entirely honest, the worst part is the not-knowing. She could probably handle finding their bodies- Abby’s and Connor’s and Danny’s, lively people with lifeless eyes- and she could more than handle finding signs that they’re  _ alive, _ that they’ve survived.

If they found clues of survival, at this point Sarah honestly thinks she might cry.

Unfortunately, they’ve found nothing. As in, actually nothing, not “oh a bloody footprint here, hopefully they’re alive but let’s not count on it”, not “one bit of gear dropped somewhere moderately visible,”- actually nothing.

No evidence that her friends are alive, and no bodies, either. A little morbidly, Sarah wishes they  _ had _ found bodies- the chances that any of the three will make it back if they haven’t found it already are beyond slim, and at least if they’d found the bodies they would have been able to give them proper funerals. All she has is the schematics of the artefact to remember them by.

But there’s still something resembling hope, and so, they continue on. Second Lieutenant Tyler is fresh out of Sandhurst, with a keen pair of eyes on a too-young face. He reminds her of Connor, just a little bit, and the way he’s attached himself to her side and babbles on about dinosaurs doesn’t exactly help her distinguish between the two.

Maybe that’s why it hurts so much more, when he dies.

* * *

The day on the other side of the future anomaly is hot and bright, and settles over Sarah like a thin layer of powder has covered her skin. Sarah is tired and sore from the last three missions in the past two weeks, but knows they have to find  _ something _ today. It’s today, or it’s nothing.

Becker doesn’t know. She hasn’t had the heart to tell him, yet.

Tyler, for once, is silent- the usually chatty young man almost always is on these missions. From professionalism or fear, Sarah can’t be sure, but she understands the sentiment, to say the least.

He taps her shoulder, and points- a curious building, vaguely familiar in the way that most of these buildings aren’t. It almost looks like the outside of their current complex, but that can’t be.

There’s no harm in following him, at least. Tyler does everything right- keeps his weapon up, doesn’t let his guard down, keeps one eye on Sarah and another on the exits like some kind of chameleon-

Sarah is the one to enter the building first. Tyler radios for backup the second they find the logo on the wall, but it’s Sarah who presses on, follows familiar footprints in the dust, places her hand on a glass tabletop, and resists the urge to cry.

There’s abandoned torches, here- she recognizes the ones that they’d been using. It looks almost as if they’d removed the batteries, and used them to power… this thing? This table?

“Doctor Page,” a soft, soft voice whispers, and Sarah’s breath is knocked right out of her lungs when she sees what Tyler’s holding.

The artefact’s been smashed. Well, the glass interior has been, not the metal shell, but given how  _ vital _ that glass is-

Sarah reaches out with shaking fingers, unzipping the bag at her side. She has models of the artefact, and with some tests on the materials, they might be able to replicate it, even if she doesn’t know how to  _ use _ it.

“Doctor Page, are you alright?” Tyler asks, stepping closer. Sarah remembers to breathe, for a moment, looks up into the young man’s eyes and decides  _ now _ that what she’d just asked Lester about yesterday, to stop these missions- they can’t. Something  _ happened _ here, something  _ important. _ Sarah’s fingers skim over little glass and rubber contraptions- like the ones Helen had been holding- and pockets a few of those, as well. Can’t hurt to have future technology on hand. Maybe she could find a way to plug the Matrix into them, with help from-

No, she can’t rely on the idea of Connor’s help, not if they ever hope to find them again. But the fact that the trail stops  _ here, _ at a location with  _ anomaly opening devices _ and a smashed Artefact- Sarah’s snuffed-out hope has been rekindled.

“Tyler,” she chokes out, eyes filled with tears, “Tyler, do you know what this  _ means?” _

Tyler’s smile is bright, when they leave what Sarah assumes is the future-ARC. He’s alert, professional, but his steps are lighter, as are her own.

Maybe that’s why Sarah drops her guard.

She can  _ see _ Becker on the hill near the anomaly, and starts to run, because she has  _ good _ news and she’s  _ never _ felt lighter-

Tyler tackles her to the ground. Shots ring out. Sarah doesn’t realize what’s happened until there’s blood on her back, and Tyler-

He’s not moving. No, he is, just- barely. Sarah pushes off the ground, grateful in that moment for all of the pushups Danny, and later, Becker have made her do since she joined the ARC, and loops her arm under Tyler’s, supporting his weight and pulling him forwards.

He’s already gone sickeningly ashy. There’s… something  _ missing, _ under his uniform, like the chunk taken out was big enough to be easily noticed.

“No,” she manages, “No, no, no, Tyler- Adam- don’t- come on. We can make it to the medics. Come on.”

Tyler’s hand curls into her jacket, and he takes another step- and shoves her away. Sarah only has time to register the threat.

Another future predator is crawling along. It hasn’t quite noticed them yet. Sarah leans down to grab Tyler again, and he grips onto the lapel of her jacket.

“Go. Without. Me,” he manages to  _ snarl, _ “I. Am. Dying.”

“Adam,  _ get up,  _ we can  _ make it-” _

He shoves her another time, hard enough that she crashes against the car. The Future Predator’s head jerks up. Tyler drags himself to his elbows, and inhales deep.

“Fuckin’  _ run, _ Page! Get OUT!”

She swallows, and listens- enough for Becker to grab her and  _ drag _ her the rest of the way.

“No, no, we have to go back for him, we have to go back for him-” she half-screams, scrabbling at the now-closed anomaly with both hands, and, finally, slumps.

It’s her fault. If she’d been paying more attention- if she’d been paying more attention, Tyler wouldn’t have had to take the hit for her. If she’d been quieter, she could have drug him back with her.

“Hey,” Becker says, crouching in front of her. Sarah looks up, tears obscuring her vision.

“Is he-”

“I’m sorry,” Becker says, “I’m so sorry, Sarah.”

“S’my fault,” she grits out.

“No, no, Sarah, it is  _ not _ your fault. Are you listening to me? It is  _ not _ your fault. If anything, it’s mine, I shouldn’t have let you and Tyler go off by yourselves-”

Sarah’s eyes widen, and she scrambles to stand, hands on Becker’s shoulders.

“What are you  _ saying? _ Tyler and I made the decision ourselves-”

“And Tyler made the decision to push you out of the way!” Becker counters.

“He wouldn’t have  _ had  _ to if I’d been more careful!” Sarah chokes out.

“Sarah, what are you  _ doing? _ This isn’t your fault!”

“It’s not  _ yours _ either!” she half-screams, and slumps to the ground again. This is it, isn’t it. This is the point of no return, this is the point where it  _ isn’t worth it _ anymore, because-

There’s no way Sarah can justify going back in there. Not with what just happened to Tyler.

Lester knows it, too.

She tries to shoulder past it, but there dip in anomalies over the next few days seals the deal. Sarah hasn’t slept for more than an hour or two at a time since the last mission, so she’s awake when Lester calls to deliver the bad news. They’ve run one last mission- without her, but they’re done.

“I guess I’m out of a job, then,” Sarah says bitterly. She knows better than to be angry with  _ him _ \- it sure as anything isn’t Lester’s fault that any of this has happened. She knows well enough that he’s grieving just as much as the rest of them.

More, even. He’s known them- Abby and Connor, that is- for years longer than Becker and Sarah have. Sarah wonders if he has anyone to talk to, when she puts down the phone.

It seems very fitting, for it to rain now.

* * *

Twenty minutes later, there’s a buzz at her door, and from her phone.

_ “It’s Becker,” _ the voice on the other end says,  _ “I- can you let me in?” _

“Becker? What are you doing out there?” she asks, and does so. He’s soaking wet- almost like he ran here, the fool- and looks like he’s been crying.

“We found his body,” he says. Sarah’s breath catches.

“Oh, Hils,” she replies, knowing  _ exactly _ how he’s feeling in this moment, the sheer helplessness and responsibility of knowing he could have  _ done something, _ because she feels it too.

“Can I just… I can’t be alone right now,” he says, and Sarah understands. She hasn’t really slept in  _ days- _ the guilt always rips her from her bed before long.

“I know,” she whispers, and follows him when he curls up on the side of her couch.

“Hey,” she says, voice soft, “You saved me, at least.”

Becker’s hand is cold from the rain where it wraps around hers, but that’s okay. She can feel a heartbeat under his wrist, and that’s the important thing.

They sleep for around three hours, before Sarah startles awake with a scream and Becker follows not long after.

“You’re still soaked to the bone,” she mutters under her breath- Becker’s not gotten much warmer while they’ve been asleep. He shakes. Sarah manages to find a pair of sweatpants and a sweatshirt that will actually fit him, though where she managed to acquire those, she’s still unsure. None of her girlfriends had ever been tall enough for their clothes to fit Becker and very few have ever left their clothes behind.

They fall asleep on Sarah’s bed, still shaking, but finally warm, at least.

* * *

Becker slinks back to his own apartment before the next night, but shows up again, exhausted and shaking, the night after that. Sarah nods sympathetically- she couldn’t sleep either.

“How long is this going to go on, you think?” she asks, when they’ve both given up sleep for the night and decide to half-watch some comedy while desperately clinging to each other to prove  _ they’re alive they’re alive we haven’t lost everyone yet- _

“The movie or… this?”

“You know, some people are going to start to think we’re dating. We  _ do _ sleep in the same bed,” she hums into his shoulder.

“Hm, yes, of course, the lesbian is dating a man. How clever.”

“Ha. Go back to being a pillow, I think I might actually be able to fall asleep again tonight.”

“Yes ma’am.”

* * *

He moves in the next week. Has barely anything other than clothes in his utilitarian flat, but Sarah’s really not surprised.

“I think this was Danny’s,” he says, fingering the hem of the sweatshirt from the first night, “Wouldn’t be surprised, he and Abby did fuss over you and Connor on theory nights for a while, there. It’d be like him to leave a pullover behind.”

Sarah’s eyes widen at the mention of Danny and Abby and Connor and  _ theories, _ and she jumps to her feet, grabbing her long-forgotten bag from the counter.

Becker’s eyes widen at the sight of the artefact, and continue to widen when he recognizes the opening devices.

“You found these?”

“I think,” she says, waving her hands, “I  _ think _ that the glass table in the future-ARC-”

“Wait  _ what-” _

“You read my log, Hils! Glass table in future-ARC, I think it had a way to input the Matrix- the map of the anomaly opening points and eras that’s on the Artefact- into these opening devices! I can’t believe I forgot!”

Becker handles the opening device in his hands with nothing short of reverence.

“You think-”

“I’m not sure what we can use them for,” Sarah admits, softly, “But… Tyler’s death can’t be for nothing. I won’t  _ let _ it be for nothing. We’ll find them.”

Becker sucks in a breath, and looks up with a stern nod.

“We’ll find them.”

* * *

(The feeling changes to grim acceptance, after Tyler’s funeral.)

* * *

Sarah’s cannibalized anomaly detector whirs, shrieking, at five o’clock in the morning, because of course it does. The anomaly alert is over an hour away, because of course it is.

Lester is asleep on her couch, because of course he is.

“Get up,” she says, “We’re going to do something exceedingly unwise and we need supervision.”

Lester throws her pillow at her. Becker, somehow, has managed to get caffeine in his system, and passes something strong over to Sarah, who downs it gratefully.

“How on Earth can you afford this place?” he asks, and Sarah snorts.

“I used to work with a few other people- mostly freelance- on identifying legitimate and fake artefacts,” she replies, “There’s quite a few people who Owe Me.”

She doesn’t hesitate to emphasize the capital letters, and Lester nods.

“Given that I’m the only one with a car, I assume I’m driving?”

“No, you need to sleep,” Becker counters. Lester scrubs a hand over his face, groans, and tosses them the keys, flopping down on the couch with an over the top sigh.

“He can’t do anything by halves, can he?” she asks. Becker shrugs.

“I heard that!” Lester shouts from the couch as they exit. Sarah is pleased to find an anomaly locking mechanism in the trunk when she checks- Lester came prepared. She slides into the passenger seat without much fuss.

“Settle in for a long drive,” Becker hums, “An hour and a half in a Jag is still an hour and a half.”

Sarah opens her maps to compare it to the location of the anomaly alert on her device.

“It’s not far from Hermitage,” she says, “Only around a thousand people. Looks to be in a wooded area, too.”

Not once does it cross either of their minds that maybe, just maybe, they should have brought back up.

(It probably should have.)

* * *

The prints are nothing short of massive. Three toes- she thinks, it seems like there are three main segments at the very least- of some tremendous creature. A plant-eater, hopefully, but Sarah knows better than most that herbivorous doesn’t mean  _ safe. _

“Looks almost like a rhino’s,” Becker points out, “And here, look- those are definitely deer prints, and the others look like oversized dog prints.”

“Really oversized. Wolf?”

“Wolf, deer,  _ rhino- _ Pleistocene?”

“We really have been listening to Connor too much, haven’t we? Yeah, Pleistocene. I’ll lock the anomaly and unlock it if the animals come back in this direction-”

“No, we’re going to need backup,” Becker counters, “A lot of it. Might be close to modern carnivores, but I’m still not going to leave you alone where you could be ambushed at any time.”

“Smart,” Sarah says, and frowns, “Wait, are we really going to explain to everyone else why we’re out here?”

“There’s an obvious creature incursion and Lester gave us approval, why wouldn’t we be out here?” Becker replies, and settles in for a long wait next to her while she sets up the locking mechanism.

They get four, eventually- Alex Scott, Peggy O’Moore, Hunter Reid and Ava Kumar, all old hats at anomaly business and all very pleased to actually be called for a situation without blood involved.

“So, how the hell are we supposed to explain this to the higher-ups?” O’Moore asks, pulling a long tuft of hair off of a tree, “And honestly, what the hell is this supposed to be.”

“We’re not explaining,” Sarah says darkly, “We’re operating unofficially-“

“Technically,” Reid points out, “We’ve kind of always operated unofficially? I mean, once we started taking animals long-term, at least. Peggy and I were here under Ryan, the ARC was a mess when we first got off the ground and the paperwork was too much of a hassle to deal with at first.”

“We’ve always operated  _ under the permission of the government, _ ” O’Moore corrects with an imperious stare. Reid gulps.

“Well, we don’t have permission now. Who wants to go rhino hunting?” Becker interrupts, clapping Reid on the shoulder with one hand. Scott and Kumar give each other side-eye as if they can’t believe this is happening right now.

“Oh, please let us not be court-martialed for this,” Sarah hears Kumar mutter under her breath.

Sarah can understand the sentiment.

* * *

They don’t fire a single weapon during the whole affair, which means the only things the straggling remains of the ARC have to answer for are a) their time and b) the gas they used to get here. There are a few wolf and large deer tracks that Sarah finds… worrisome, but setting up camera traps is the best any of them can do at this point.

Reid and O’Moore lean against one another on the bench outside the woods, afterwards, fingers tangled up together, and Sarah understands, she really does. They’ve outlived Captain Ryan and Stephen Hart and Nick Cutter and now the ARC itself- they can’t separate themselves from their duty anymore, and they can’t separate their duty from grief, either.

Scott and Kumar are… less, than these two veterans- not less in any way that matters, except that they seem just a little close to shattering, like Sarah had not so long ago. They’re not tired in the same way that Reid and O’Moore are, but their steel hasn’t been tempered just yet.

On the drive back home, Sarah lets out a shaky breath, and lets her head fall back against the headrest.

“It doesn’t feel right,” she says, “to do this without them.”

She doesn’t need to say who she’s talking about for Becker to  _ know. _

“It doesn’t,” he agrees.

* * *

Lester puts his foot down when they open the door to Sarah’s home, lays out a series of instructions for what they are and aren’t allowed to meddle with in the future.

The detectors are confiscated, but Sarah’s little stash of future tech is left alone. Lester also brings with him three very familiar faces.

Rex, Sid, and Nancy.

“I can’t take all three of them,” he says, three pet carriers by his side, once he’s done laying down all of the rules, (no actively going looking for anomalies, but if you’re asked to show up by someone else who still has a detector or you figure out one’s nearby, go ahead, just don’t expect backup beyond that little group you’ve managed to wrangle together), and Sarah and Becker both nod, “I can take Sid and Nancy, maybe, but I can’t take Rex.”

The little reptile curls up on Sarah’s lap, chirping tiredly. Sarah runs her fingers down Rex’s back with a sad smile.

“We’ll take him,” she replies, voice gentle, “Best of luck, with Sid and Nancy.”

“Don’t get yourself into trouble, Doctor Page,” Lester instructs, before sliding out the front door, “Captain.”

Maybe it’s the way Rex looks at her, now, maybe it’s something else, but it sinks in, at that moment, that Abby, Connor, Danny- even in the best case scenario, the chances of them coming back are far beyond slim to none.

She’s crying before she’s aware of it. Rex has a little scaled hand on her chest, looking up into her face with the too-intelligent eyes that so many reptiles seem to have.

“Let’s get you something to eat,” she tells the reptile, who chirps, pleased, at this development.

* * *

Not having an anomaly detector doesn’t mean they don’t still stumble across anomalies, it just means that they stumble across  _ less  _ of them, and when they do, it’s not uncommon for them to be far, far too late.

Sarah keeps a finger on the pulse of every forum she can think of, every social media site that would work. She brushes up against a few other people doing the same thing, and reaches out, careful not to spill what she knows out into the open.

Sometimes, she’s pleasantly surprised- like when it turns out Jenny is keeping an ear out for anything suspicious. She’s  _ said _ she’s disconnected from everything, but that doesn’t stop her from “pointing out misinformation” and calming people down with a half-dozen social media accounts that she wields like weapons.

Sometimes, she ends up more confused than surprised. A man named Evan Cross- Canadian, some sort of tech mogul, she thinks- is quite pushy with his questions. Sarah explains it all away as an archaeologist’s curiosity with the blending of the natural and the supernatural.

And then, she narrows her eyes, and looks a little deeper, sends his profile over to Lester with a flag that he’d been  _ digging. _

Anomalies, however, don’t lend themselves to forums and quiet discussion, stories of lights on the ground and shattered glass hung suspended in the air.

Their job would be much easier if they did.

No, anomalies are messy and chaotic, and maybe that’s why Sarah is startled into movement by a sparkling shimmer on the edge of her field of view, as she moves through the town square in this little place on the coast that they’ve decided to visit today (why, Sarah’s not sure- it took  _ hours _ to get here and it’s barely noon), and an all-too familiar  _ whoosh. _

She hits Becker in the arm to grab his attention- they don’t go anywhere without each other anymore, not even to take a look at old pottery in small cities that barely deserve the title (though their stories of dragons are rather impressive), and they likely won’t for a very long time, if she’s right.

And she is. She can feel Becker stiffen as he moves to grab his phone. Sarah holds up a hand.

“Hang on,” she says, flagging down a local, “You’re not seeing that?”

“What, the art installation? It’s been here for weeks. Gaudy thing, but we just ignore it.”

Sarah’s eyes widen further, if that’s at all possible at this point. If what the local says is true… anything could have come through in that amount of time. Suddenly, the dragon stories don’t seem as quaint.

There’s a faint roar, so quiet that if Becker hadn’t jumped too, Sarah would have assumed she’d imagined it.

“There’s stories of dragons, here,” she says, once they’re far enough away, “Giant bats, too. Don’t know if it’s connected or not, but it’s worth it to stay and keep an eye on that thing, isn’t it?”

The anomaly, as they walk closer, is even bigger than the anomaly at the airport had been- easily large enough to let even a supermassive carnivore through, to say nothing of the comparatively little things they’re so used to dealing with.

“Right.”

“I’ll get us rooms, if you can head back and grab the rest of the team and some clothes if we’re going to be here for a while,” Sarah instructs, hand on Becker’s shoulder, “And then we can find a local pub and see if we can pull some stories out of some very drunk people.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Becker replies with a grin, “And yes, I can do that. I can  _ definitely _ do that.”

* * *

Becker shows up with one full suitcase of clothing and  _ two _ full suitcases of weapons. Sarah’s kind of impressed, she’d thought he’d bring more.

“Peggy’s still babysitting Rex,” he says, “Although I’m not entirely sure we’ll get him back after this, given how attached she is.”

“Shared custody agreement of a lizard, Hils. What would Abby say?” she teases, and gets her hair ruffled for the effort.

“Time to do a little reconnaissance,” Becker replies, “No alcohol, yeah?”

“No alcohol,” Sarah agrees, “But we can certainly ply everyone else with drinks. And keep an eye out to make sure nobody’s slipping anything into anything else- I certainly will.”

“You’re being a little paranoid, given that this isn’t going to be a very crowded pub, but don’t worry. I have your back, Doctor Page.”

Sarah hits him. Lightly, in the upper arm, but she still hits him. She knows that Becker knows that she meant only the best by it.

They slip into the pub relatively unnoticed, until they start asking the locals about the giant bat legends, of which there are… many. One woman swears it’s an oversized heron with the wings of a bat, though, which is… more promising?

“How... oversized?” Sarah asks, and the woman slams her mug of beer down on the table with a harsh  _ crack, _ fire flaring behind her eyes.

“The size of a bloody Cessna, that’s what’s what! I’d’ve mistaken the thing for a giraffe if it hadn’t taken off- bigger wings than anything that’s ever had a right to British skies, I’ll tell you that much.”

Something wriggles, in the back of Sarah’s head, like she’s heard about this before. A glimmer in Becker’s eyes tells her the same thing- there’s something familiar about it. Sarah pulls out her phone, because that’s a very specific set of descriptors and she  _ does _ have an internet connection, might as well use it. She saves an artist’s rendering onto her photos, and pulls it up as such to show the drunk woman.

“This is someone else’s sketch. Did it look anything like this?” she asks. The drunk woman grins, and points.

“It did! Brighter colors- especially the  _ beak, _ I won’t forget  _ that _ thing- but it looked like that!”

Sarah casts suspicious eyes towards the anomaly she can’t quite see from her position at the main window of the pub. She  _ can _ still see the reflected glow.

“Ah, you noticed. There’s something  _ wrong _ with that thing, I know it,” the drunk woman says, and shakes her head as if to clear it, “Have known since I came up here two weeks ago from London.”

“Oh really?” Sarah asks, not particularly interested in the conversation anymore, thumbing the painting on her phone.

_ Quetzalcoatlus northropi,  _ named after a legend- that seems… fitting, given her profession.

“Trauma surgeon. M’wife- well, ex-wife since this morning- kicked me out for too long of hours at the hospital, been staying with my parents.”

Sarah can feel Becker shift, paying closer attention. She gets it. They don’t have an on-call doctor, not as much as they need to, given how many medical emergencies happen that are beyond the capabilities of their field medic.

“What’s your name then, miss?” Becker asks. The drunk woman smiles, and holds out a hand.

“Doctor, please- I’m a qualified emergency room physician as much as I am a surgeon, and the name’s Leonora Barker. Ex-wife called me Nora, so please, call me Leo.”

Quietly, Sarah thinks  _ ‘if you’re doing double-duty, I’m really not surprised your wife was upset at the restriction in your time,’ _ though she doesn’t say it aloud, and instead scribbles her phone number out onto a napkin, and passes it to Leo, who smiles.

“Dunno if I’ll be able to hold on to this. Here’s mine.”

She just plunks her open phone in front of them. Yes, that certainly is easier to remember.

“You know, you might be right about it being an awfully large bird,” Sarah says, once she has the number saved. Leo laughs.

“Wouldn’t that be a sight. Great big birdie, scarin’ the life out of a coastal town. I was  _ lucky _ that thing didn’t take a swing at me with its bill.”

“Lucky, huh?” Sarah asks, looking at Leo with mirth hidden behind her eyes. She exchanges a silent glance with Becker, and knows they’re thinking the exact same thing.

_ ‘Leo, you have no idea how “lucky” you really are.’ _

* * *

It’s eight o’clock the next morning when a dark-haired blur in a warm-looking leather jacket stumbles up next to them. Leo, for someone who was so drunk last night the bartender had weaned her off everything stronger than beer, looks far too chipper for this morning.

In contrast, Sarah and Becker, who hadn’t had  _ anything _ to drink and instead stayed up all night researching the species that existed alongside Quetzalcoatlus and clearing Leo’s likely (and now certain) eventual presence with Lester, are bone tired and would like to do anything except stay awake right now, please.

“O’Moore and Reid are going to be here with the locking device in around three hours,” Becker says. Leo looks at them both curiously.

“Locking device for what?”

Sarah takes a deep breath. This morning- somewhere around three, if she remembers correctly- Lester had said they could read her in, that he’d asked and gotten approval for it in case the ARC came back online because they  _ need _ a doctor and a dual-purpose in emergency medicine is better than their best hopes- but there is one last moment, before she tells Leo, that she has to make a decision.

“That,” she says, indicating the anomaly that’s larger than most buildings around here. There’s no going back now.

“The art installation? What about it?”

“You don’t honestly believe it’s an art installation, do you?” Sarah asks. Leo’s eyes widen as she turns back to Sarah.

“I… I looked up the giraffe-heron thing after I saw it. It took a while, but it  _ said _ it was a pterosaur. But that’s… that’s not possible,” Leo manages. Sarah smiles, and shakes her head. She turns to Becker, with a silent question-

_ Do you want the honors of the introduction, or should I take it? _

“You’re the myths and legends expert,” Becker replies to the unspoken query, “You take this one.”

Sarah turns back, eyes shining.

“So,  _ Doctor _ Leo Barker, what do you know about time travel?”

* * *

Leo is taking this rather well, all things considered. Sarah’s moderately impressed- it’s somewhere between her own understandable panic and Becker’s “oh, huh” but without the accompanying disbelief. She’ll fit in just fine, if the ARC is ever back up and running.

“The more worrying thing,” Sarah says, once Leo’s caught up to speed, “Is that while we can be relatively assured that Quetzalcoatlus would probably not be interested in eating live humans, we’re not sure what formation is on the other side of that anomaly.”

“Connor got us into a good habit of checking, before he went missing,” Becker explains, “You always research what formations the main creature is in before you continue- lets you know what  _ else _ might be coming through the anomaly. Unfortunately, Quetz is contemporary with-”

“Too much, and that’s just through a basic search in Connor’s database. Depending on the formation, we could be looking at anything from Troodon to T rex,” Sarah interrupts, “And that’s not even mentioning the herbivores.”

There’s movement, in the corner of her eye. Becker points, and Sarah follows- the thing is massive, truly massive. Leo hadn’t been exaggerating when she’d said the wings were as wide as a small plane. If Sarah had her doubts about it being a Quetzalcoatlus before, she certainly has none now.

“If I wasn’t terrified of a massive predator coming out of that ball of light, I think I’d be just a little in awe right now,” Leo says. Sarah nods in agreement.

It swings back around towards the anomaly on its own, landing awkwardly on the unfamiliar grass of the square. Sarah takes a moment to just… look.

Its back is dark, and the belly is pale, speckled in with black from time to time like the breast of a bird. The head, though- the neck is a deep rusty red, and the crest is pitch-black. The bill is gray and blue, and Sarah wonders how on  _ earth _ Leo ever thought this was a heron.

It’s not violent, fortunately- it moves back towards the anomaly with careful steps. Sarah is glad for the way her phone resists the magnetic charge of the anomaly- she can take a picture. For Connor.

The anomaly is so large that the Quetzalcoatlus isn’t even quite big enough to reach half its height, and it could easily have flown through. However, the pterosaur takes one last, dramatic look at the rest of this sleepy little town, and vanishes through the anomaly.

Sarah smiles.

That smile drops, at the sound of heavy footfalls on the opposite side of the shattered light. She knows perfectly well what could be causing them, and hopes and prays that O’Moore and Reid get here with the locking device sooner rather than later.

* * *

Sarah, as an Egyptologist with years of field experience under her belt, knows better than most that large herbivores, by and large, are far more dangerous than their carnivorous counterparts. She’s  _ met _ hippos before. And so, out of the three of them, she is the only one to spring into highly panicked, frenzied action when the long, long neck of a sauropod ( _ Alamosaurus, _ a voice in the back of her head that sounds suspiciously like Connor Temple says, but she can’t be  _ sure _ of that,  _ can _ she, because she has no  _ confirmation _ that the formation on the other side of this anomaly is the Javelina formation,  _ does she, _ brain-Connor, now shut  _ up _ , brain-Connor) shimmers through the shattered glass.

“We have to move,  _ now,” _ Sarah says, grabbing Becker’s arm and the collar of Leo’s jacket. The doctor looks at her curiously, and the Captain  _ squeaks. _

“Yeah, I’m sorry, Hils, but we need to get to a safe distance.”

“Why? Even I can recognize a sauropod, it’s a herbivore, it’s not going to  _ eat _ us,” he says. Sarah whips around.

“Do you know how many people are killed by hippopotami every year, Hilary Becker?  _ Over five hundred. _ Crocodiles and other predators are just trying to  _ eat- _ big herbivores like elephants and hippos and  _ sauropods _ are just plain  _ violent.” _

Becker is… more off his game than usual, this morning, but that seems to snap him into high gear. Sarah breathes a sigh of relief as he takes over the actual animal-wrangling so that she and Leo can deal with the humans.

For not the first time, Sarah is glad that anomalies automatically make the camera function of non-specialized phones unusable, at least within range for clear photographs. They’d fixed that, of course, in their own ARC-issued phones, but it still works on everybody else’s, which means Sarah  _ won’t _ have to call Jenny about cleaning up another Internet mess.

Unfortunately, these things don’t work as nicely in their favor when it comes to longer distance lower quality photos or any camera without an attached Internet connection, but there’s only so much they can do, and it’s not like someone’s going to pull out a Nikon if they’re being attacked by a large wild animal.  _ That _ is just basic human survival instinct.

What is  _ not _ basic human survival instinct is running directly towards a supermassive herbivore currently having the sauropod version of a panic attack. Sarah and Becker and even Leo, who is having her own little panic attack because a sort of draconic pterosaur and a giant sparkly time portal are one thing but an Alamosaurus is an entirely different equation altogether, try to stop the middle-aged woman and her dog careening towards the beast.

It’s… not very effective. She nearly gets a tail to the skull. Sarah rushes in and grabs her before the sauropod can stomp down again. She resists the urge to see her breakfast again and passes the woman off to Leo, who immediately begins her sprint to the nearest hospital. Sarah is kind of impressed, given the whole “bridal carry an entire human person and still manage to run full speed” thing, and she might have given it more thought if she also wasn’t trying to not get trampled on like the dog yapping at the woman’s legs had been

She is  _ so,  _ so  _ morbidly _ glad, in that moment, that her first two missions out were so bloody. They prepared her for this. Even if “this” is likely in the top ten most disgusting things she’s ever seen in her entire life.

O’Moore and Reid have, as if telepathically sensing their mutual distress, have brought backup in the form of Scott and Kumar, who take one long look at the body on the field and get right to work.

A middle-aged man screams at the Alamosaurus and shakes his fist at it. Scott, in a fit of being actually competent unlike the three of them had been when the woman had run across the square, tackles him to the side and away from the massive sauropod.

They manage to scare it back in with no further casualties- Leo reports from the hospital that the woman is stable, and also very, very drunk. At nine in the morning. Sarah would normally be surprised, but she finds she doesn’t exactly have the energy for that today, beyond relief that the woman is, unlike her dog, in a relatively alive and healthy condition.

She has  _ even less energy _ to feel anything beyond pure, unadulterated horror when she’s informed that an anomaly has opened in Parliament. Her words from before- of well-equipped herbivores and the danger that they bring- ring once again in her head. It wasn’t an allosaur, or a dilophosaurus, that killed the people in that well-filmed hall, no.

Sarah doesn’t have to look at the thagomizer wounds to trust in the knowledge that stegosaurs are dangerous beasts, especially when they feel cornered.

She’s already got her own nightmares to tell her that.

(She doesn’t sleep, that night. Neither does Becker. Leo shows up somewhere around five in the morning, eyes glassy and unfocused, and holds Rex to her chest like a plush toy of scales and bone.)

(Leo doesn’t quite  _ fit, _ in this little hub of codependency, but she needs them, and Sarah’s never been able to turn away someone who needs her.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh neat, end-of-chapter notes. As I'm sure you can probably tell, I spend half of forever (actually only three and a half weeks but who's counting) on this fic. I wish y'all the best. Standard drill, comments and kudos are appreciated, especially in a relatively small and inactive fandom like this one.


	2. keep your place in the sun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stage Two of codependency might just be re-adding old friends to the cuddle pile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ohohoho....

Doctor Sarah Page meets Jessica Parker on a relatively unassuming day, months after the assumed death of her old team. They didn’t have a Jess, back then- or a Leo. They, frankly, could have used both.

“So. You’re… the new boss, then?” Jess asks hesitantly. She’s probably shorter than Sarah on flats, but in her heels, she’s just a little bit taller. Sarah’s not sure as to what exactly is going through her head, but it might have something to do with the  _ other _ field team leader- her immediate subordinate, according to the paperwork- and his qualifications.

“Yeah,” she says in reply, because there’s not much else to say, beyond- “Sorry we weren’t able to deal with the whole… Stegosaurus in Parliament thing. Hils and I were busy dealing with a Cretaceous incursion a few hours north of here and recruiting Leo, we didn’t hear about it until we got back.”

Jess frowns. It’s cute, how her nose wrinkles. Adorable, even.

“But… the ARC only recently became active again, how were you dealing with incursions if you were disbanded?”

“Jess,” Sarah says, “I want you to look at me, and look at Becker, and look at the rest of the old-guard security team and ask yourself- do we really look like we’re willing to sit back and do nothing while people could get hurt?”

Jess blinks. Her face un-scrunches, and she stares, wide-eyed, with a gentle smile on her face.

“No,” she hums, voice bright, “No, you don’t.”

* * *

It’s two o’clock in the morning, because all important things happen at two o’clock in the morning, when Becker’s parents call.

Becker meets her eyes over the muffled shouting on the other end of the line, and silently presses the speakerphone. Sarah winces sympathetically.

She can  _ hear _ his mother’s tirade, and almost wishes she couldn’t, until she sees the tears welling up in Becker’s eyes and realizes that he needs her to listen along with him, needs her to have his back right now, and Sarah- well, Sarah’s always had a too-kind heart, ask her primary teachers that much. The line eventually disconnects with a beep, and Sarah wraps her hands around Becker’s.

“So,” she says, voice gentle like she thinks he’ll bolt if she raises it (and maybe he will, “What was that about?”

“Came out as bi,” he replies, voice gruff, “Didn’t go so well. She, uh- started insisting that it didn’t matter, I was dating  _ you _ anyways, then I said you were gay and us being codependent because all our other friends are dead didn’t mean we were dating, and then she started insulting  _ you, _ saying you corrupted me or something, and I can handle people insulting me but you and-”

“Who?”

“Danny, mostly- he wasn’t shy about posting group photos and it’s pretty clear from his bio and I just- I lost it, Sarah.”

“Doesn’t sound like you’re the one who lost it, Hils.”

“Yeah,” Becker says, scrubbing at his face, “Sarah, I… I think this was it. I don’t think I’m going to talk to them again for a long, long time. I knew I wasn’t visiting any time soon, and I’m… I’m  _ tired _ of people not knowing. Everyone at the ARC did- does- ugh.”

“You can borrow my parents if you want.”

Becker barks out a laugh.

“Sure, Sarah. Sure.”

* * *

Sarah’s parents react exactly the way she’d expected them to- namely, kindly, and worriedly, fussing over Becker like she does, because Sarah has to get it from  _ somewhere,  _ doesn’t she?

Her father calls her out on it. Sarah shrugs. It’s just How She Is, it’s her true inheritance from them, to want to make sure everyone’s safe, and it’s been kicked into high gear with the recent loss.

But there’s something- something strange, something  _ off,  _ that doesn’t quite fit with that same loss, something thrumming under her spine like it’s going to be found again- it’s hope, really, that same hope from the future-ARC, that maybe, even if they’ve stopped looking for Connor and Abby and Danny, the three of them will still find their way back eventually.

Sarah runs her fingers over the anomaly opening device with a quiet sort of grief, the kind that says oh, she  _ could, _ just  _ maybe, _ open the doorways she needs to bring them  _ home, _ but that it’s her fault that she’s not  _ willing _ to, that she’s not willing to risk the rest of her team for their three missing members.

Becker notices. O’Moore notices. Reid and Kumar and Scott all notice, too. Leo notices something’s  _ wrong, _ but doesn’t have the rest of the information necessary to come to conclusion the rest of them have. She never  _ knew _ their missings, Cutter and Jenny and Connor and Abby and Danny, and doesn’t feel the same grief that the rest of them do, the same way Sarah and Becker will never know what it was like to lose Ryan and Willoby and Hemple and Hart.

Jess… doesn’t pick up on it, not quite. She’s bright and sweet and charming and oh-so-young, and while she does do her research, it hasn’t quite  _ sunken in _ for her yet (or at least it seems like it hasn’t) that people  _ die _ in this line of work, that there’s no way she’ll be able to manage nothing more than sweet happy smiles for however long they manage to keep the ARC open.

Fortunately, with the new wave of funding (even if it does come with corporate ties- Sarah may have worked freelance for a long, long time, but it’s done nothing but hammer in the fact that people with as much power and influence as Philip Burton are  _ not _ to be trusted, and something in that name sounds  _ familiar, _ like it’s half-remembered from an old, worn notebook laying secure in her dresser drawer) comes new technology- most importantly, new locking devices, which can be activated within thirty seconds of arrival.

Sarah remembers when they’d had to fuss over the devices for a good several minutes before getting it to work for the first time and even for subsequent maneuvers, the need for at least a few seconds of checking for it to unlock and relock- even for those with more experience.

Now, it can be done by members of the security team. Sarah and Becker waste no time drilling them on it. Matt Anderson still hasn’t arrived- well, not really- but that one can wait.

* * *

Sarah follows Jess, who’s mouthing along to a Prospero speech that’s likely been played half a hundred times in recent days. That’s the first of her issues with working for the big companies- propaganda (one  _ could _ call it advertising to a captive audience, but Sarah just makes it simple and calls it propaganda).

“Sorry,” Jess says, “I’ve just seen this video with every new recruit this month. Not that you’re a new recruit, you’re-”

“Matt Anderson?” Sarah asks. There’s something… off, about him. Oh, he seems nice enough, that’s for sure, and she has no doubt that he won’t be a  _ danger _ to the team, but that doesn’t mean he’s being entirely honest, and Sarah is more than on her guard.

“Matt’s fine,” he says, “Sarah Page, yeah?”

“Sarah.”

“Come with me,” Jess says, and slaps the ID on his wrist like one of those gimmick bracelets. Sarah wonders if that’s what they were inspired by- she wouldn’t be surprised if they had been.

“Your ID. Matches the reading of your skin. Scan doors to gain entry, and it won’t work for anyone else if you lose it,” Jess says.

“Ah, that last one’s my fault. Part of one very long, unhappy story,” Sarah interrupts. Matt’s eyes jerk up to meet her own, and he frowns.

“Helen Cutter stole it off of me. Fortunately, she’s probably dead, so you don’t have to worry about her.”

Matt shrugs.

“Cool. What’s everyone been like?”

“I’ve only met Burton twice,” Jess cuts in, and Sarah knows better to interrupt- this is Newbie Time, and they don’t need her paranoia, “I thought he’d be scary, but he really wasn’t.”

“So he doesn’t keep an office here, then?”

“No,” Sarah replies, gesturing for Becker to come over. There’s some minor posturing about the uniforms. Sarah clamps a hand down on both of their shoulders.

“Listen, there’s been a little confusion, here. I don’t think you understand the secondary effectiveness of Security not being in civvies- we’ve dealt with civilians under this scenario for years. They’re good for getting people to  _ get out of the way. _ Sometimes, civilians are their own worst enemy- they provoke large wild animals, they steal small ones.”

“Oh, are we talking about Jack Maitland gambling away the lizard again?” Becker asks, puffing up just a little bit, “I’m not fond of intimidation of civilians, but I do have to admit, that one is a particular point of pride for me.”

Jess and Matt raise their collective eyebrows. Sarah sighs, and shoves Matt in the general direction of the armory. Hopefully, they won’t fight with each other all too much. Sarah would like to avoid kicking anyone off the project this early on, but if she’s going to be forced to choose, she’s choosing Becker in a heartbeat. She can always find a new second in command, she can’t find another Becker.

And she doesn’t trust Matt yet, not as much as she should. Something seems… off, about the man.

He does come into what approximates her “office” in this day and age and asks if they can order in non-lethal weaponry, which Sarah does have to admit endears him to her just a little bit. These creatures are deadly, yes, but they’re also vital to the timeline.

“I’ll tell Becker. Just make sure they’re effective.”

* * *

Becker, predictably, throws the professional, adult version of a hissy fit, which is hilarious when considering he’s doing so while pacing around their home with a lizard clinging to his chest.

“And furthermore-”

“Hils, you can have this argument with Matt tomorrow. For the time being, I agree with him. And frankly, I think immediate stun-not-kill weapons are probably the best thing I’ve heard of all week, imagine if those replaced traditional firearms?”

“Well-”

“Becker. You’d be walking around carrying the heavy-duty basic version of a phaser from Star Trek set to stun. Our job involves time travel. Just get used to it, we’re living in a science fiction novel.”

Becker snorts.

“More like a television show, or one of those long book series where each individual novella is on the short side- I think we’ve all been doing this long enough for that to count.”

“Sure, Hils, whatever you think. Either way, we’re going to give the non-lethals a field trial run. We’ll use them for however long they’re use _ ful _ .”

“And you’ll pull them if they’re not?”

“And we’ll pull them if they’re not, but I’m not going to approve you to continue using lethal weapons if there’s a viable alternative option. We’re… animal control, first and foremost, and animal control doesn’t need to be carrying around weapons  _ that _ dangerous on a daily basis.”

* * *

Matt speaks first at the meeting. Sarah lets him, which gets her odd looks from the rest of the group. O’Moore, Reid, Scott, and Kumar are fidgety. 

Sarah’s fellows in the research department- Doctor Katherine Galley, the head of engineering, Doctor Aisha Kaur, their current veterinarian (who is very fond of Princess- she sends Sarah photos of the pachycephalosaur frequently. Princess, apparently, is easily startled but otherwise quite sweet and well-mannered, a nice change from dealing with yappy, poorly-socialized lap dogs), and Doctor Woodward, their mathematician (who Sarah has still not been able to wrangle a first name out of), all look somewhere between incredulous and incensed.

Leo, off in the corner, looks like she’s about to speak up. Sarah shoots the doctor a glare, and her mouth shuts with an audible ‘click’.

“Safety will always come first. There will be no more civilian recruiting,” he says. Leo glares right back at Sarah, even harder, as if she’s trying to say  _ ‘you’re really going to let him talk over you like this? I know you don’t agree with what he’s saying’ _ .

Funnily enough, Sarah’s so busy trying to keep Leo quiet that she misses the chance to head off O'Moore’s interruption entirely.

“That’s… not exactly feasible, sir, and if you’d asked Doctor Page or Lester about this before hand, you would have  _ known _ that. Yes, we can take  _ almost _ every operative without a military background off of the field teams, but you  _ are _ forgetting a few key pieces of information.”

“And that would be…” Matt trails off. Sarah looks to O’Moore, and nods.

“You’ve been here longer than anyone else save Lester.”

“First, we don’t actually  _ recruit _ field team members. You’ve not been here-”

“Oh, are we talking about Danny arresting Connor and flying a helicopter into an anomaly as his interview?” Sarah interrupts. It’s a fond memory, to say the least.

“No, I’m talking about  _ you _ , actually,” O’Moore replies, and turns back to Matt, “I’m sorry if this seems harsh or insubordinate, and I will shut up and do my job after I speak my mind now, but you are  _ brand-new _ to a well-established team.  _ Yes, _ we have lost people over the years, and yes, it hurts, but the implication in your  _ tone _ is that we lost them because they were civilians in a warzone, which they were not. We have had a  _ murderer _ systematically  _ picking off _ our civilians for the last several years, which you would have known if you’d  _ been here. _ We don’t lose people to incursions, not anymore. We lost them to Helen Cutter. And what happens if our missings do come back? Will they be allowed back on the field team if they ask?”

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get-” Matt starts. Sarah cuts in.

“It’s a yes or no question, and the answer  _ should _ be yes. We… don’t have unilateral control, Lester doesn’t either, not anymore. And we can’t hold out hope for that situation, but… yeah. If they want to come back, they have a right to it. And Matt?”

“Yeah?”

Lester motions from the railing to speak, and Sarah tilts her head in his direction.

“You don’t make decisions like that without speaking to the team first, and you  _ certainly _ don’t make those decisions without talking to me or Page first. They’ll listen, yes, but… well, let’s just say that this group is familiar with the concept of a “hostile takeover” and aren’t exactly fond of anyone who even mildly seems like they might be inching in that direction.”

Matt’s gone sickly pale. Sarah shuffles, hands at her sides, and sighs. It’s a bit of a harsh lesson, but he’d had to learn it. The Anomaly Research Centre is beyond just  _ jumpy, _ it’s  _ paranoid- _ paranoid with  _ justification, _ at that. Any violation of the little trust they’ve gained in any of their new members has to be crushed, and quickly.

Sarah knows that Matt’s not the threat everyone has their hackles up about.

No, that one would be Burton.

* * *

Sarah likes the communicators well enough- the idea is good (even though she does insure that they won’t gather audio while they’re off-duty, even if they’re hanging on to the communicators at all times), but Jess says something to set Becker off (Sarah’s going to be honest, her hackles went up too, but that was still a bit… much) and all of a sudden, Sarah has to run interference between members of her team once again.

“I’ll talk to him,” she says, voice soft. Jess looks like she’s so nervous she’s going to make herself sick. Matt’s more curious than anything, and Sarah has to remind herself that there’s no  _ reason _ to get angry at him, he doesn’t  _ know _ that Sarah and Becker are so codependent that they still can’t sleep in separate rooms most nights, he doesn’t  _ know _ how deep the trauma runs and he doesn’t  _ know _ how much the old ARC clings to each other now that they’re in an unfamiliar place with unfamiliar people and a known, comfortable name.

She softens, just a little bit, looking at Jess.

“You didn’t say anything wrong. We’re just… it takes a lot out of all of us. I hope neither of you have to go through what we did.”

“You nearly died, didn’t you?” Jess asks. Sarah sucks in a breath.

“I would have, if it hadn’t been for Lieutenant Tyler. He died instead of me, and I will carry that for the rest of my life. I just have to make it a long one. For his sake.”

Jess’s eyes widen, and she looks back down at her keyboard. Sarah thinks she might not have done the best job in convincing the young woman that she hadn’t screwed up.

_ ‘I despise being the only emotionally mature person on the core team,’ _ Sarah thinks to herself. It’s not exactly fair (the rest of the field team might be emotionally compromised, but Lester’s been here too long to be regarded as anything but a core member), but she’s exhausted and she’s not playing fair at the moment.

“Hey, Becker,” she says, sliding into step beside him. The Look he gives her reminds Sarah of a kicked puppy, drooping ears and all.

“I shouldn’t have snapped at her,” he mumbles, and looks down at his feet. Sarah nods.

“Now stop having the emotional maturity of a five-year-old and go apologize, I’m not here to clean up your messes.”

Jess walks over to find him not long after, chirps something about pulling her foot out of her mouth, and bounces on her toes.

“Forget it, I completely overreacted, I’m sorry,” Becker says, and Sarah grins broadly, holding both thumbs up beside her face, “Look, I know you’ve been asking around about the old team. It’s okay. You can ask us anything you like, neither of us will bite your head off.”

“No, we won’t,” Sarah says, walking so fast it almost looks as if she’s skipping in order to catch up with Becker. It’s astounding, how much a twenty centimetre height difference can do to stride lengths. Sarah doesn’t like it, not at all. Jess, being Jess, giggles at her quietly. Sarah just smiles in response. They’ll get along well enough, it just might take some time.

Jess’s question- halted, confused, but comprehendable enough for Sarah to work around- is the kind of question a true ARC employee would ask, one filled with multi-layered time travel and what-does-it-really-means. Sarah weaves her little tale of early hominids and a woman who wanted to change the future, how they might not even know anything was amiss because time travel is a fickle thing like that. She doesn’t quite notice how Matt’s spine stiffens, but she  _ does _ notice there’s something far too off about the man as of late.

* * *

The surprising thing about the Iguanodon at the beauty school is just how  _ calm _ it is. Maybe it’s because cosmetology students are well aware of the need to keep unruly customers in line, or maybe they have a secret stash of tranquilizer darts for panicky students, or- well, Sarah really doesn’t know. She  _ does _ know that she can  _ breathe _ around this anomaly, can let the deep, aching wound in her chest rest for just a moment.

For the first time in weeks, she takes joy in the sight of a creature long dead, takes the time to run a soothing hand down the Iguanodon’s side as the creature huffs and stomps back through the anomaly. Everyone’s in a good mood, now- especially Matt, whose eyes are shining bright with the same kind of childish wonder that Sarah had felt on her first non-lethal anomaly with Cutter, when the man had taken the gentle time and care required to explain how long the little parakeets he was cradling with such reverence had been extinct for.

The good mood is vanished, when Matt comes back from the little excursion outside- phone call, most likely. Sarah wonders, for a fleeting moment, what it was about, before she grabs him by the wrist and hauls him outside and into a car. Becker looks up, and she mouths where she’s going to the man, who nods.

“Where are we-” Matt says, and Sarah shakes her head.

“Trust me.”

It’s not far. They’d managed to smuggle most of them back to the States without anyone noticing beyond several very excited bird fanciers, but there’s still a sizable colony, and Sarah thinks Matt needs some good news right now.

“Just feed the birds. We don’t need to talk about anything,” she says, and hands him peanuts. She really does do most of the emotional labor around here nowadays, doesn’t she.

The little conures descend before long, and Sarah can  _ see _ when the recognition just barely begins to seep into the back of Matt’s mind, as he regards them with confusion instead of amusement. Finally, his head jerks up in one half-glorious movement, eyes wide, and Sarah resists the urge to laugh at his shock.

“Carolina parakeets?” he hisses, and Sarah nods, smile soft.

“Yeah,” she says, scooting closer to the man to take a hold of a parakeet of her own. The yellow-headed conure leans forward, beak almost touching Sarah’s nose. It’s impossible to be in a bad mood when they’re squeaking for one’s attention, which is exactly why she’d brought Matt here.

“Cutter found them,” she says, voice gentle, “It wasn’t a dangerous anomaly- we mentioned the incursion to Lester, but Abby checked a few of them for parasites and- it was too good to be true, except it  _ was  _ true _. _ Before we came back to the ARC, Becker and I, we wouldn’t come here- reminded us too much of him- but they remember us. Remember Abby and Connor a bit better, but they remember us.”

“Extinct parrots in London,” Matt hums, and Sarah shakes her head, eyes shining.

“Not just London. There were more, when they came through- most are back in their home range. Heard a few chicks were hatched this year. I cried. A lot.”

“Becker cried too, I’m guessing?”

“Like a newborn baby.”

The Carolina Parakeets swirl around them as they stand up to leave, startling a young woman on the other side of the park.

“I’m not going to talk about it,” he says. Sarah shrugs.

“That’s fine with me. Keep an eye out for Becker- emotionally, not physically, we both know he can take care of himself physically- for me when I’m not there and I’ll consider us even.”

Matt’s eyes soften.

“You care too much, you know that, Page?”

“I’ve heard that before, yes.”

* * *

Nothing can really prepare her for what happens with one truly massive anomaly alert snaps them all into wakefulness early in the afternoon.

No, wait, go back.

* * *

It’s a bad night, the night before The Alert. Well, a bad night for Sarah- Becker’s fine- but the little space they’d managed to put between themselves is suddenly no longer a viable option. Sarah can’t even be angry at how codependent they’ve become- it’s not like there’s any unknowing partners to complain about how close they are to one another, anyways, and they need it.

She falls asleep tucked into Becker’s side with Rex chirping softly close by, and can almost kid herself into thinking that she’s fallen asleep at Abby and Connor’s flat, filled to the brim with her jewel-bright reptile collection where it should be instead of taking up all the space in Lester’s eldest child’s room as the sweet thing tries her best to fill the void their Missings have left.

She jerks awake screaming only one more time that night. Becker is already there to soothe her back down. It’s not ideal, to say the least, but they have each other, and that is enough for now.

* * *

Jess lets Princess out on accident in the morning. Normally, it would be cause for panic, but Sarah reaches over with a roll of her eyes and turns  _ off _ the alarm and turns the lights up.

“You’re making her nervous,” she chides, “Large animals are more dangerous when they’re frightened, especially herbivores.”

Jess blushes, and wrings her hands together nervously, like she’s worried Sarah is going to yell at her for the mistake. Matt’s out of the bullpen already with water and a gentle smile, and Sarah stands to follow him.

Becker and O’Moore unstick from their positions to keep the field team leaders in their sights. Sarah makes eye contact with both of them, and smiles indulgently.

Princess’s head picks up at the sight of familiar faces and far more familiar fruit- Becker had thought ahead and grabbed strawberries from the fridge, it seems. She looks much less draconic and far more birdlike in this moment, and it’s not all that difficult to move her to the pen she’s been in lately.

It’s too small for her, that much is obvious- she’s feeling penned up, closed in, and it’s sent her stress spiking past the roof.

Sarah feels deeply for her, she does, but she’d barely been argue with Lester for the mammoth to stay out of the ARC. She’s still not exactly sure how they swung that one, but he’s with elephants now and in a relatively good mood which is… something, she supposes.

Maybe she can drag Matt and Jess over to her and Lester’s side of the fence re: Princess’s pen size now. Or over to their side in reference to the design of the new ARC. Sarah’s eyes hurt all the time, now, and she needs  _ actual light _ to be able to see. Jess complains about headaches at least once a week, and if the lighting was decent in this- what Sarah’s reluctant to describe as a hell pit of darkness-  _ location, _ that would most certainly not be the case.

She thinks.

Sarah’s barely paying attention when Matt speaks up, and has to hide a snort when he takes the fall for Princess’s escape from Jess- yes, he’s most  _ definitely _ one of them, now.

“Oh, and Sarah,” Lester says once he’s done chewing Matt out for the perceived fault, handing Sarah a pad, “Your new gear is here.”

“More Matt’s new gear than mine,” Sarah says good-naturedly. Lester doesn’t bother to hide his bark of laughter at the idea that Matt can sneak anything past her.

She holds up the pad victoriously.

“Matt! Becker! Peggy! Let’s test out your toys!”

“Do I need to prepare stretchers?” Leo calls from where she’s standing by the coffee machine, “Or should I be present anyways, if you’re going to play duel? Do think they had doctors there for the real ones, after all.”

“I’ll pass, unless you’re making that an order, Page,” O’Moore offers, biting into a muffin, amusement clear behind her dark brown eyes.

“Hmm, you’re telling me you  _ don’t _ want to see Becker proved wrong for once?” Sarah teases in reply. O’Moore chokes on her muffin.

“No, you’re right, that I’ll  _ pay _ to see. It’ll be good to know what type of power they’re packing, too,” the tall woman hums. Leo, for all her talk, stays back.

Jess is hesitant, to say the least, but Matt shoots Becker in the chest with only a little prodding from Sarah in addition to the man himself.

Becker, of course, being Becker, whines about it for the next several minutes, like he hadn’t asked to be shot in the chest himself. Sarah resists the urge to remind the man that it was his idea in the first place.

“The burning, a couple hours. The headaches, couple days. The humiliation? Well… that kind of depends on when I get bored of it, really,” Matt teases.

“Oh, he’s going to be hearing about it from Mum for the next year, easily,” Sarah hums, and Becker groans dramatically. Matt looks between them with narrowed eyes.

“My parents are terrible, Sarah’s decided I was a pity case,” Becker explains. Sarah laughs.

“Sorry about that, still, but I just want you to know I won’t do anything to risk the team,” Matt says, and that’s probably the most wrong thing he could have said right now. Becker’s face falls, and Sarah reaches out for his hand.

“If it hadn’t been for Sarah, I think I would’ve quit,” Becker says, “Danny, Connor, Abby, Tyler so soon after… the one thing I can do here is make  _ sure _ that  _ never _ happens again.”

“It wasn’t your fault, you know that,” Matt says. Sarah shoots him a glare, and steps between him and Becker before he says something stupid.

“He knows,” Sarah replies. Becker doesn’t ever really  _ shake _ when they’re out of the house _ , _ not in a visible way, but his hands do, and he holds onto hers like a drowning man to a life preserver.

There’s probably half a million things going through Matt’s head right now, likely pointing out the danger of Sarah and Becker’s codependency, how likely they are to shatter if just about anything goes wrong- but thankfully, he decides to keep his mouth shut. Good idea. If he was going to put his foot in it like he was about to, Sarah might just deck him.

“You both trust me, right?” Becker asks, voice small. Sarah squeezes his hand in reply, and shoots Matt a Look.

“Yeah, with my life.”

He looks like he was about to add another comment, but is cut off by Becker doing his best octopus impression and clutching Sarah tightly to himself like a security blanket.

“Philip’s here,” Matt warns, and Becker reluctantly releases Sarah, who pats him on the shoulder.

She keeps an eye on Burton while he talks to Matt. If she’d had hackles to raise, they’d be up now. Burton’s friendly enough, but Sarah doesn’t trust too-wealthy men on instinct.

“There’s something off about him,” she says, indicating the man with her chin as he leaves, “I’m willing to wait him out, if it’s just a new thing, but-”

“No, you’re right,” Matt agrees, “There’s something wrong, here, something terribly wrong. Did you see the systems he wanted to put into place?”

“I would have had to  _ approve _ them, Matt, of course I saw them. That’s a Health and Safety violation if I’ve ever seen one. Airlock a room an creature is in, yes, but  _ vacuum _ instead of tranquilizer?”

“Fuck, yeah, that was  _ bad,” _ Matt says, shaking himself like a wet dog as if that’ll get the bad feeling off. There’s something strange in the air, today. It feels as if the pressure is building up in Sarah’s head, when-

With the blaring of the anomaly detector, her ears pop, and Sarah grins brightly at Matt, who still looks uneasy.

“Today’s going to be a good day,” she tells him, nudging him with her shoulder. Matt shrugs, and follows her out without a complaint.

* * *

It’s eleven minutes away, which is too close, and probably not a good thing, but there’s anticipation humming under Sarah’s skin like it never has before. She piles into the car with Becker and O’Moore, tapping her foot along the floor of the vehicle.

It’s… a big anomaly- Becker remarks that it’s not any smaller than the hangar anomaly- but Sarah’s not paying him any mind, not anymore.

It feels like she’s been punched in the gut, as if all of the breath has been sucked from her lungs like she’s in one of Philip’s decontamination chambers and the vacuum is on, because she  _ knows _ who that is, out in the gray.

Becker’s hand finds hers and squeezes hard. Sarah looks back, tears in her eyes.

“You want to startle them a bit?” she asks, and Becker nods, but O’Moore is already out of the car, shouting at Connor and Abby- because it  _ has _ to be them, nobody else has hair that naturally pale or looks that goofy even after months of roughing it than Abby or Connor respectively- to get down on the ground.

Becker grins at her.

“Let’s go get them,” he says, and Sarah can’t help but laugh.

Both of them look so  _ confused, _ down there on the ground. Reid closes the anomaly with his traditional lack of flair, and Becker squats down next to the two. Sarah can’t quite make out what he says- she’s distracted by a confused-looking man alongside one of the taller buildings in the square.

She  _ does _ notice when Connor and Abby stand, and barrels into their sides with as much force as she can manage with her relatively small frame.

“We’ve been taking good care of Rex for you,” she says, and Abby chokes out a sob.

“Where the hell have you been?” Becker asks.

“Oh, you know,” Connor replies, panting, “In there. Would’ve called, but-”

“Can’t get a landline in… when were you?” Sarah hums.

“Mid-Cretaceous… North Africa,” Connor says, “Think I saw a Spinosaurus.”

“You did not see a  _ Spinosaurus, _ it was an oversized crocodile,” Abby interjects, in the way of arguments had a dozen and a half times.

“I’m telling you, it was a Spinosaurus! Sail and everything!”

“It was  _ swimming _ several metres below the surface, Connor-”

O’Moore motions to make a call, and Sarah tilts her head in the casual little way that says she has her approval. She doesn’t even have to ask who O’Moore is contacting- she already knows damn well. Sarah’s glad she has the extra space in her home- there’s no way she’s letting these two out of her sight for the next  _ month. _

She tucks Abby’s shoulder under her chin again, before retracting herself and narrowing her eyes.

“Where’s Danny?”

Connor frowns.

“We thought he was with you?”

“He… never made it back,” Becker says. Sarah makes a considering noise.

“He went on ahead of you, didn’t he?”

Abby nods.

“When?”

“The Pliocene,” Abby replies. There’s a screech of car tires- Matt’s finally made it. He introduces himself with little flair, and Sarah keeps a careful eye on the bystander acting far too familiar for her liking while Matt watches her people.

Connor moves forwards, excitement radiating off of the man, and Sarah tenses, worried, when she sees what he holds in his hands.

“Connor, I’m not sure that’s a good-” Sarah starts, and is cut off by exactly the worst possible thing to happen- the opening of the anomaly. Which, Sarah’s not surprised by. She’s not sure if she’s  _ ever _ seen the thing do anything but open an anomaly.

The more concerning part of this whole fiasco is that something comes through.

Oh, it’s nothing, at first- just Abby’s blanket drifting on the wind- but Becker goes stiff as a board next to her as he recognizes the shape of what escapes next.

Long and lean, with a pale grey, almost white head and a dark, dark back, with a narrow head and a jaw filled with razor-sharp teeth- Sarah knows it’s certainly a prettier sight than the  _ last _ time Becker saw a carnosaur of any kind, but-

“Oh, you’ve got to be joking,” a bitter man with a familiar voice states. Sarah jerks. It’s the bystander- he’s come closer in the last few seconds- but the voice and the face are both so familiar, dredging up memories of documentaries she’d watched with Abby and Connor on good days, and-

“ _ Nigel Marven?! _ ” she yelps. Becker grabs her by the shoulder.

“Don’t care who he is, start  _ running!” _ he shouts. Sarah obliges, and ducks under a car, next to… Nigel Marven. Life is weird.

“Do they always try to kill you? This isn’t normal animal behavior,” he says. Sarah shrugs her shoulders.

“It’s the job.”

“Could be a  _ fantastic _ research tool,” Nigel chirps, peering over the hood of the car. Sarah resists the urge to bark out a laugh.

“I  _ know! _ We could see ancient cultures in real-time…” she whispers wistfully, before pulling out her phone.

“Jess-”

_ “Matt already told me. Two mile radius gridlock. I’ve got it, Sarah,” _ Jess says from the other end of the line. Sarah can feel herself relaxing.

“Good, tell him good job for me if I forget.”

_ “I will!” _ Jess hums, before hanging up. Sarah pulls Nigel with her as Becker waves them over, and hauls the both of them into the bed of the truck, grateful for the fact that Becker’s been making her do a truly excessive amount of arm exercises, because it sure as anything doesn’t seem excessive anymore. She nearly falls off the side when Becker screeches to a stop and Matt commandeers a much larger truck.

Nigel sits awkwardly in the backseat while Sarah barks orders over the comms.

“Jess? Matt? What are our options?”

_ “There’s an arena not that far from you,” _ Jess says. Sarah clucks her tongue against the roof of her mouth.

_ “Jess, it’s not following me,” _ Matt says, and Sarah frowns.

“But the arena  _ should _ work, in theory. Is it tall enough for the- what did Connor say it was? Carcharodontosaurus?”

“God, that’s a mouthful,” Becker snorts derisively as he steals a young man’s cellphone (Becker would say “liberated” or “commandeered” but Sarah would laugh and reply “stolen” yet again).

“If I wasn’t so terrified right now, I think I’d be in heaven,” Nigel laughs from the backseat, “There’s such a clear difference in the musculature and patterning between the Carcharodontosaurus and the Giganotosaurus, it’s incredible.”

“Didn’t the Giganotosaurus try to  _ eat you?” _ Becker asks, judgement coloring his voice.

“Not really- it just panicked. Large carnivores can be violent when they’re-”

Sarah jolts upwards in her seat.

“When they’re  _ scared. _ Matt, what’s it doing right now?”

_ “Running away from me, mostly. I’m trying to lure it to the arena, but it just changed- damnit, it’s running back towards-” _

Sarah can see Nigel’s eyes widen in the rearview mirror, and the strike of inspiration hits both of them like a bolt of lightning.

“If it thinks it’s being attacked by a smaller pack of large carnivores-” Nigel starts.

“It’ll run towards home,” Sarah breathes, rush of excitement like a match to the kerosene in her veins, “Alright. Peggy, where are you? Can you commandeer another large vehicle?”

_ “Yes ma’am!” _

_ “We can too, if you need us!” _ Connor’s voice chirps out from the communicator. Sarah resists the urge to swear at them for stealing what was probably going to be Scott and Kumar’s car, and instead directs them to drive directly at the Carcharodontosaurus- funneling it back towards the still-open, still-pulsing anomaly.

“You know, Carcharodontosaurus could have been a pack hunter,” Nigel offers from the backseat. Becker makes a whine low in his throat that, if the situation had been any less dire, Sarah would have laughed at.

“Do not say that right now. Do not.”

“What? It probably was.”

“I think one’s good enough for now!” Sarah shouts, leaning out of the truck, holding onto the railing on the roof.

The Carcharodontosaurus wheels around at the blare of their horn, and takes off at what approximates the large carnivore’s version of a sprint.

She loses it, for just a moment, but Matt is there, pressuring it in the right direction, back towards the anomaly. Connor and Abby race down in a third direction, and the Carcharodontosaurus, spotting the familiar light that brought it here, makes a break for it, shattering the anomaly opening device below its foot.

“That’s not good,” Sarah says, poking at the thing, which is obviously beyond repair. Becker snorts.

“You think?”

“Matt, do we have extras?” she asks worriedly. Matt nods.

“It’ll take us a few minutes to-”

“Give it to me,” Connor says, and is immediately passed the half-assembled backup anomaly locking device. It takes under thirty seconds for him to piece the thing back together, and even less time for the anomaly to whirr shut.

It’s not as… dramatic, as it should be, except for the fact that they just harassed a several ton carnivore back home using nothing but a couple of trucks. Sarah resists the mighty urge to collapse like she has a fainting couch readily available.

“Let’s go home,” she says, arm on Becker’s shoulder to steady herself. Abby barks out a laugh, and Connor finally relaxes enough to be pulled into the group hug again.

There’s a relatively stiff re-introduction with Lester. Sarah smiles, and leans in to Connor’s side, gripping Abby’s hand in her own.

“He’s trying to cover up the fact that he was fussing, and as soon as he’d heard we found you, too.” she says, “ _ And _ that he showed up at our house in sweatpants to get drunk and cry, although I can’t judge him for that one, we did a lot of that.”

She can  _ see _ Abby’s heart break behind her eyes, and it hurts.

“Come on,” she tells them both, “I’m sure you want custody of your lizard-son back.”

“You have Rex?” Abby asks, delighted.

“Already told you we did,” Becker says, and their two returners, put together, have a smile that’s got a shot at outshining the sun.

They curl around together, on the couch in Sarah’s (and now Becker’s) living room, too buzzed for sleeping in an actual bed.

Sarah hadn’t thought she’d ever make a blanket fort again, and yet here she is.

“You have a checkup with Leo tomorrow. She’s nice,” Sarah says, yawning widely, and snuggling in between Becker and Abby, “She’s heard a lot about you, from us.”

“Can’t wait to meet her,” Connor hums, matching her yawn.

Rex chirps from the arm of the couch. Abby offers the reptile an exhausted smile.

For the first time in months, little broken-off pieces of Sarah’s heart feel like they’re welding back together.

The next morning, she crushes the opening devices as best she can. Can’t risk Burton getting his hands on them, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah ngl i don't know what to do with these since i'm posting this all at once


	3. the blessing of familiarity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abby and Connor are back, and the world is back at the correct tilt of its axis.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi. What is this doing here? idk

Leo gives Abby and Connor clean bills of health, which is a relief second to none. Sarah can’t think of anything worse than getting them back just to lose them again.

It is awful, though, how quickly Burton dismisses them. Sarah’s glad she’d disputed Matt’s rule on the spot- she’d done it mostly because of the fact that Matt publicly undermining her as a non-combatant on the field team would be a terrible idea at best, especially since they haven’t had the time to explore avenues where Sarah’s experience would be useful- because Burton can’t use it against her people like that, but-

The probationary period is non-negotiable. The explanation makes sense, on the surface- they’ve just undergone an exceedingly traumatic long-term experience, to have them on the field team right away would be foolish at best for anyone  _ but _ Connor and Abby- and Sarah likes the idea of them going through some basic field training with the EMDs, but-

It’s Connor and Abby. They’re members of the  _ original _ field team. There’s a certain little spark in non-military field team members that lets them keep burning, burning, burning, and Sarah’s no exception- she will work until she gets the job done and she’ll move with the best of them.

“Philip,” she says, because he insists on it, and she knows better than to fight men like Burton on which name to use, “Can I talk to you for a moment?”

“Yes, of course,” he says, in that smile that seems genuine on the surface but makes Sarah feel ill just looking at it.

“Connor, and Abby, they- I’ll be recommending them to go back on the field team,” she says, “They do their best work out there.”

“Not their best, I’ve heard, or at least not in Mr. Temple’s case. I heard quite a bit about an artefact from the future that you and he deciphered,” Burton replies, head tilted.

“No, they do,” Sarah argues back, “Connor’s made half a dozen game-changing discoveries out in the field- if he’d been in a lab, we wouldn’t have the Detector or the Locking Device. And Abby- Philip, confining her to the Menagerie is a  _ waste. _ ”

“I’ll take that into consideration,” Burton hums, “Thank you.”

“For what?” Sarah asks with a frown.

“For speaking to me in private. Would be a…  _ terrible _ thing, if there was dissent amongst the ranks,” Burton says with a smile that must be attempting to pass as charming.

Sarah’s long past believing charming smiles mean charming intentions.

* * *

She suggests one of Jenny’s sock puppet accounts as a lead for Connor to follow that night, when they’re eating the dinner Connor had somehow managed to find the time to make from scratch (it’s because sometimes, just sometimes, incredible boredom and not facing immediate death results in wondrous creativity… even if the span of that creativity involves whole milk low moisture mozzarella and a truly impressive amount of yeast). She doesn’t tell him it’s Jenny, of course, because Jenny likes to be hidden like that, but she does mention offhandedly that it’s a little more information than she’d expect from a completely outside source.

What she doesn’t expect is for Jenny to send Connor in a completely different direction- namely, in the general direction of an old friend.

“So. You think you’re hunting a creature?” she asks over the phone, resisting the mighty urge to pinch her brows. What on  _ earth  _ has Jenny sent Connor into now?

_ “Yeah, Duncan thinks so, at least, and I believe him. Dunno how your middleman was keeping enough tabs on ‘im to send me to the right collection of sites, but tell them thank you from me.” _

“I will,” Sarah replies, startled, “Are you two alright?”

_ “Yeah! Yeah, we’re fine, just hunting a creature that’s been eating homeless people on our own, we’re alright!” _ Connor bites back, voice halfway to a shout. Sarah holds her phone away from her ear.

“Connor, do you need us to come and get you? Just say the word. This wouldn’t be the first time there’s been a pre-anomaly detector holdover,” Sarah replies, remembering the hushed tale of the camo beast in that awful abandoned house with a wince.

Now that she thinks about it, they really do need to check for more non-time-native species. There’s a niggling feeling in the back of her head that perhaps there’s more truth to those stories of big cats here than she’s been giving said stories most of her life.

After all, the wolf stories are truer than most. Sarah would know- she’s turned quite the blind eye to wolves the last few months- she won’t let them slip past her if she can help it, but if she doesn’t round them up after the anomaly closes… well, that’s her business, isn’t it?

Abby slips out of the new-ARC, with little fuss. Sarah locks eyes with Matt, and they stand to follow her in unison. Becker catches Sarah’s glance, and tips his head in acknowledgement- he’ll come follow them and leave O’Moore in charge if they need him to, but for now, he’s the field-boss.

It doesn’t take them long to find Connor, Abby, and Connor’s friend, who she’s forgotten the name of sometime in the last ten minutes.

It takes them even less time to find the Kaprosuchus, mostly because the thing is lunging right at said three people. Sarah grabs Connor and hauls him through the open passenger window with a strength that surprises even her.

“Oh, of course it would be a land-crocodilian again,” she says, staring wide-eyed at the Kaprosuchus. It’s roughly as tall as Connor’s hips at the shoulders, with a mouth full of long, sharp teeth. Sarah doesn’t think she would have mistaken this one for Ammut, but then again, Sarah had also spent the better part of a month researching prehistoric crocodilians after that whole debacle and she thinks she might be able to name more on sight than Abby at this point (though she’d never bet on herself against Connor in this kind of competition, that’s just foolishness talking right there).

“Any  _ ideas?” _ Connor’s friend yelps as the Kaprosuchus lunges after them.

“I’m sorry, what’s your name, again?” Sarah asks.

“It’s Duncan, do we have a  _ plan?” _ he cries, leaning his head out of the window- Sarah can see him in her mirror. She doesn’t think it’s particularly bright idea, but oh well. She can’t exactly trade places with him, but-

“Matt, switch with me,” Sarah orders.

“What? Why?”

“You’re a better shot than me,” she says, and lets Matt haul himself into the passenger seat while she takes the wheel, grateful beyond grateful that she’s done  _ stupid _ things of this variety with Danny and Becker in the past.

Matt rolls down his window. Sarah jerks the car from its previous course into the harbor to right along beside it, giving Matt a crystal-clear shot into the Kaprosuchus.

Unfortunately, neither of them had factored the crocodylomorph’s robust armor plating into their decision.

The Kaprosuchus barely seems to register the initial low-grade hit, though it does pause, shaking its head in confusion. Sarah blinks.

The Kaprosuchus makes an upset noise and retreats back towards what must have been its den.

“It’s a terrestrial predator,” Connor says, “It’s not going to follow us to the water.”

“Well, shit,” Matt replies.

“That’s not good,” Sarah points out.

That, of course, is right around when Becker arrives with a heavier-duty EMD and one impressive cage.

“Are we going to be adding a carnivore to the Menagerie?” he asks, and Sarah grumbles, adjusting her jacket.

“Let’s just capture it non-lethally first.”

As it turns out, getting an unconscious oversized crocodylomorph into a heavy-duty ARC animal transport crate is not difficult. Abby makes sure that it’s still unconscious before she opens up the sliding window in the side of the crate and passes two hunks of chicken and a sizeable water dish through.

The  _ difficult _ part is explaining why you have a crocodylomorph from the Late Cretaceous to your billionaire overboss in the first place (because Lester wasn’t actually that skeptical or surprised- all Connor and Abby had to say was the name ‘Smilodon’ and he’d made a little ‘ah’ sound and stopped asking questions).

Eventually, though, only one question is on everyone’s minds:

Where the  _ hell _ are they gonna put this thing?

To answer that question, Sarah does what got them started on this entire mess:

She asks Jenny.

Jenny sends her back to a now-familiar face. Sarah, just having gotten over the what-the-fuck-ness of last round, is perfectly happy to accept what her trying to convince Nigel to take the Kapro on is going to sound like to everyone else not aware of the situation.

Fortunately for everyone involved, he agrees. Lester gets the twinkle in his eye like he’s realized how many more people he can offload work to.

Matt mumbles a quiet apology to Sarah as he leaves the office Burton has temporarily commandeered. Sarah’s well aware of what he’s done when Connor is returned to a fold he should never have left in the first place.

They all camp out in Sarah’s living room again that night. Nothing like nearly getting eaten by an all-too-familiar land crocodilian to set the nightmares off again.

* * *

In retrospect, Sarah should have expected the aurochs. It’s not like they’re unused to Pleistocene megafauna, and Sarah should know better by now than to complain that she hasn’t gotten to use her archaeological skill as of late.

She could have done without the massive anomaly slamming shut before they can get the  _ hundreds _ of cattle through. However, there are some interesting moments-

Namely, the half-conversation she manages to have with some exceedingly polite humans. Apparently, they’ve been following the breeding-season bison herd, but when she- patiently and thoroughly- explains that they’ll have to go back before the anomaly closes and they’re marooned in a time where they’ve built up virtually zero immunity to the diseases of their absence.

Well, that’s sort of what she explains. It mostly involves pointing to the aurochs herd, pointing to the anomaly, figuring out the words for “many” and “sick” in their language, and repeating it until they go back through.

“I’m an archaeologist, not a linguist,” she mutters once all the humans are back through, and she’s settled back in to looking at the cows.

Except it’s not just cattle, is it. In the several hours it’d taken them to drive up to the anomaly, hundreds upon hundreds of cattle had managed to fan out over the field, but an equal amount of bison seem to be present as well.

“How are we supposed to explain this to Lester?” Matt asks, “Or Philip, for that matter?”

“At least they  _ look _ like modern animals,” Sarah offers, “We could just deny that we know anything about their genetic content and that we seized an illegal breeding program involving domestic cattle and wisent.”

“Sarah, look at them,” Matt says, “They’re obviously Aurochs.”

“And why would an archaeologist and a veteran know what an aurochs looked like?” Sarah replies in challenge, eyebrow raised. She really hopes he understands what she’s implying.

“Fine, but Lester’s gonna have kittens when he sees this.”

“Oh, I know.”

“Then why are you gonna let me take half the fallout?”

“Because Lester likes it when he doesn’t have to run interference on anything, and the two of us playing dumb can extend into  _ him  _ and  _ Philip  _ playing dumb, at least until whatever journalist that comes around next eventually finds out that we’re hiding a mammoth.”

“Princess wouldn’t be the cover story?”

“The mammoth’s bigger,” Sarah replies good-naturedly, “And who  _ wouldn’t _ want a bull mammoth on the cover?”

Just to taunt them, a truly massive cervid crosses their path, tossing his immense pair of still-velveted antlers in the air.

“Damnit, a Megaloceros, too?”

“In our defense, we can always say it involved cloning,” Sarah reassures him, patting his arm, “Deer start growing their antlers rather early on.”

“Cloning? Really, Sarah?”

“It’s the best excuse we’ve got, Matt.”

* * *

“Alright, Leo, Becker, you’re with us this afternoon after lunch today,” Sarah says. The doctor’s head jerks up with a nod, while Becker just stretches out his back with a business-as-usual grin, “Lester says we should have a doctor on-call today if any anomalies open. Good press.”

“Because the chances of us being able to get around the several  _ Megaloceros _ that showed up in Scotland is next to none,” Matt finishes for her, and Sarah resists the overwhelming urge to high-five the man. He’s finally getting it.

Leo’s smile is bright. The doctor isn’t pulled out on-mission very often, and even if they don’t get an anomaly today, Sarah knows that she’s going to be in a good mood all day anyways.

Sarah shouldn’t be surprised, however, that when she, Leo, Becker and O’Moore go out to get lunch together instead of dealing with the mess that is the non allergy-friendly team kitchen, the anomaly detectors on their hips decide to siren-chirp right after they pay the bill.

“Where is it?” Sarah asks as she pins her communicator into place. Jess rattles off the address, and Sarah frowns.

“That’s only a two minute run from here- I’ve been to that theatre before. We’ll get there with the locking device in the car, tell Matt to meet us.”

_ “I will!” _ Jess chirps, and Sarah, devoid of her usual assortment of weapons aside from the knife she now obsessively keeps in her shoe, feels a sinking sense in her stomach as she peers up at the theatre.

“The anomaly’s close,” she says, narrowing her eyes at the detector, “Becker, you’re with me. O’Moore, your priority is Doctor Barker.”

“Yes ma’am,” O’Moore says, which is right around when Leo decides it’s a good idea to run off after a sound she’s heard.

“Well, shit,” O’Moore says, breaking into a sprint, hurling a quick “Sorry!” behind her.

Sarah will allow herself to face-palm, just this once.

“This is going to be a long day, isn’t it?” she asks Becker, who shrugs tiredly. Sarah’s just glad she’d eaten  _ before _ as she races to catch up with the other two women.

She’s barely made it halfway to the open anomaly when she finds them.

“Severe airway blockage at the very least, not sure what it is, but it shouldn’t have gotten this far. I’ll have to change into my scrubs, the nearest hospital is mine and I’m not the attending ER physician but they’ll probably need me on duty, I’ll tell them to have a ventilator on standby. This is  _ bad, _ this is  _ very _ bad.”

“Fabrics aren’t consistent with twenty-first century,” Sarah hums to herself, “Probably an incursion in and of herself.”

“If we leave her here or put her back through she’s  _ dead, _ Sarah, we don’t have  _ time _ to wonder  _ what _ time she’s come from. Peggy! Has Jess gotten the nearest ambulance ready?”

“Yes, she has. Tell us what you need us to do,” O’Moore replies.

“Everything I tell you to do, you hear me?”

“Good thing we were off for lunch so close, isn’t it?” Becker asks, “Would’ve taken an hour for Matt and the rest of them to get here with traffic as it is right now.”

“Becker, shut your mouth,” Leo snarls, “We’ll intubate her when the ambulance gets here-”

She’s cut off by the sound of sirens. The previously-empty theatre becomes a whirling vortex of color, light, and movement. Leo hops into the ambulance with the other medical personnel.

“They said they’re going to the hospital she works at, right?” O’Moore asks, “That’s-”

“Five minutes for them, probably around thirty for us if we drive and twenty if we walk,” Sarah replies, setting up the locking device, “Sounded like she might need intensive care for a while.”

“Who, Leo?”

“No, the woman from the anomaly,” Sarah replies, “Although Leo might need a break, too.”

The anomaly locks. Sarah, Becker, and O’Moore sit together awkwardly.

It takes a long, long time before anyone speaks.

“So, are we just going to wait here until this thing shuts, or-”

There’s a thud, like someone’s tripped over a box laying on the floor. Sarah winces sympathetically, and then it processes.

“Jess, tell Matt that I don’t think we’re alone here. I’m unarmed, the only reason Becker and O’Moore have EMDs is that we kept them in the kit, and I definitely heard someone,” Sarah hisses under her breath, so low that the soldiers only barely acknowledge their names.

_ “Alright,” _ Jess says,  _ “I’ll warn Matt. Do you want me to stay on the line, just in case?” _

“Yes, that’d be a good idea,” Sarah replies, hoping her voice doesn’t sound as shaky as it feels. Slowly, there’s a warmth at her side- Becker’s leaning into her, eyes calm and gentle.

“Do you know if…she’s okay?”

_ “The woman you four found? Yes, she was intubated and put on medication to increase the air flow to her lungs, according to Leo- apparently the treatment is simple, but it had advanced to the point where they’ll likely have to keep her in for a few more days.” _

“We don’t ask her anything for at least a week, am I perfectly clear?”

_ “Yes, of course, the poor thing needs time to recuperate. Matt’s about ten minutes out.” _

“Thank you, Jess.”

_ “No problem. Just between you and me,” _ Jess’s voice lowers, and Sarah can imagine she’s leaning over her keyboard conspiratorially,  _ “I think I might have just stressed the rest of the security personnel out.” _

“Oh, how so?” Sarah asks, leaning back against Becker.

_ “Between the finding-a-brunette-woman and the there’s-someone-else-here, I think I can figure out why they’re so nervous, but really, I don’t think the chances of it being her are very-” _

“You could be right, though, Jess,” Sarah mutters, “I don’t want you to be- you have no  _ idea _ how much I don’t want you to be- but you could be right.”

_ “Let’s hope I’m not, for all our sakes,” _ Jess whispers.

“Yes, let’s.”

* * *

It’s not until Matt’s arrival that Sarah feels comfortable going exploring in this dark, dimly-lit theatre. With the knowledge that they’re looking for what might very well be humans, the whole security team is on high alert- Kumar sidles up to Sarah and Becker with a determined set to her jaw, and keeps her EMD armed and ready.

There’s a yelp and some hefty swearing from O’Moore, Scott, and Reid’s end of the building. Becker straightens- Sarah can practically  _ hear _ the cracking of his spine back into place- and right around then is when they’re attacked by a mess of wavy golden-brown hair brandishing a long, ornate dagger.

Kumar slams the woman into the wall with one swift hit from her shoulder.

“Thank you, Ava,” Sarah says, trying to pretend that her heart isn’t beating faster than a rabbit’s after a good run.

Kumar grumbles in response, rubbing her shoulder irritably. Becker raises the EMD, turning on the light at the end to better see the woman’s face.

“Who are you?” Sarah asks, leaning over Becker’s shoulder, “And what do you want?”

“Could ask the same,” the mysterious woman says, “My... friend is… not very friendly, when he’s stressed. Couldn’t let him go wherever you’d take him without at least putting up a fight.”

Sarah nods tiredly.

“And are you-”

“Charlotte- the sick woman- is one of us,” the woman says, knees up to her chest, “She asked me to take care of Ethan- if-  _ when _ \- we go back through, but I can’t do that if we’re separated.”

“And why do you need to do that?” Becker asks next, eyes flickering to Sarah, who nods.

“He’s- Ethan- Uhm… the term poorly-socialized would probably be the most applicable,” she says, “He’s kind of… feral.”

“LET GO OF ME!” a man’s voice rises in the rafters, “DAMNIT-”

“Is that him?” Sarah asks, a smile tugging on the corner of her lips. The woman frowns, and sucks in a deep breath.

“ETHAN, DON’T STAB THEM!”

_ “WHY SHOULDN’T I STAB THEM?” _

“THEY HAVE  _ GUNS, _ ETHAN!”

_ “SO?” _

Sarah barely manages to turn her startled laugh into a snort. Fortunately for the lot of them, EMDs work perfectly well as short-term tranquilizers. The woman pats her friend down, and removes several weapons, listed:

  * One broadsword, worn at his belt
  * Three daggers, one in a sheath on the belt, one under the coat, and a third in the boot
  * Two smaller knives, one in his pocket and yet another in a boot
  * A rapier, stuffed down his pant leg



“Sorry, Ethan,” the woman, who has by now identified herself as Emily, “They’re helping Charlotte, we can’t- we can’t leave without her, Ethan.”

“Ethan” grumbles in response. It’s an astoundingly familiar action, and Sarah can’t quite place where she’d seen it before.

“Let’s just get you two checked out at the hospital,” Sarah says, trying to keep her voice soothing (she knows none of the  _ rest _ of them are going to try it) “Or back at the ARC.”

“What’s the ARC?” Emily asks.

“Our base,” Matt replies, tossing a look to Sarah, “Our on-site physician- Leonora Barker, you probably saw her treating your friend- should be getting back there right around now. Your friend’s in the ICU at a nearby hospital, but going there without going through decontamination first is a bad idea at best and could kill someone at worst. What years are you two from?”

“I’m from the eighteen-sixties,” Emily responds.

“Smallpox exposure, probably, then, maybe a half a dozen other illnesses. We’ll have to test you- well, Leo will have to test you- back at the ARC. And you?” Sarah asks the man by her feet.

Ethan grumbles again on the floor, and raises himself up on his arms.

“Late nineteen-nineties,” he says, “I was fourteen. Different name.”

Sarah scrunches her nose up in concentration.

“Why is that…” she mutters to herself.

“Why is that what? Plenty of teenagers went missing in the nineteen-nineties,” Matt says with a frown.

“No, it’s just… anomaly-related disappearances in the nineteen-nineties, I think I know of at least one. Not Helen Cutter, that’s early twenty-first, but-”

“Could just be listening to too many true crime podcasts,” Scott offers.

“That’s probably it, thank you, Alex.”

Matt hauls Ethan to his feet, and shoots the pair a smile.

“Now, how spicy is the food that you would say you’re used to, on average?”

* * *

Predictably, Burton and Lester aren’t pleased. However, the former good-naturedly puts the three out-of-timers up in a flat a decent ways away from the action and promises that they’ll be the first to know if anomalies to their times open up, and yes, of course, they’ll retrain Ethan for modern society, and-

Well, Sarah only hears about how that goes from one exceedingly entertained Charlotte and one even more exceedingly  _ horrified  _ Lester, who doesn’t mention what he finds so worrying.

Jess passes the file to Sarah, who reads it, and understands.

“When you mentioned ‘unstable,’ I thought you meant ‘kind of violent’ unstable, not ‘killed a full grown serial killer at seventeen’ unstable,” Sarah hisses to Emily, who shrugs her shoulders and yawns in reply. Sarah tries her best to not get irritated at that. It’s not really enough.

She doesn’t trust Ethan. For obvious reasons. None of them will ever really trust him, not really, even if he is more of a feral cat of a man than he is some sort of malicious, stalking predator, at least towards them.

She is glad the man’s going to therapy, though. The instinctive little voice that shouts ‘danger!’ whenever he’s around has begun to quiet- not much, but it has been.

Sarah’s far fonder of Emily and Charlotte- especially the former, who’s an incredibly bright woman somewhere between Sarah and Jess in age. She hits it off with the both of them after that initial mess is cleared up.

For a Victorian noblewoman, her health is actually rather good, which Leo says with a sigh of relief. She’s also by far the most curious of the three as to how their inventions actually work. Connor mentions a project he’s working on- how to find what time an anomaly comes from- and that’s it, Emily’s sold. It’s hilarious to watch, actually, and she and Jess and Matt take quiet bets on how long it’ll take for something to explode in the lab that Connor has set up.

(It takes a week.)

* * *

The thing about working for the ARC is this:

Sometimes, you have to take your losses.

Sometimes, you have to swallow the fact that your late arrival meant someone  _ died. _

Most of the time, Sarah can work past it, but this time… there’s something about that body on the floor that absolutely wrecks her into tiny little pieces, like she was so soon after that last mission through the future anomaly.

That night’s another camp-out-in-the-living room night- or, well, the night after, when Becker gets home from the hospital, is. Sarah is finally drifting off when she startles out of sleep.

“Danny,” she says, “Danny’s brother, Patrick Quinn- fourteen year old, went missing via anomaly in the late nineties.  _ That’s _ what I was thinking of,” Sarah says, panting for breath, “He’s  _ Patrick.” _

Leo tests him, the next day. The results are as absolutely unsurprising as anything else Sarah could have expected.

It’s just that sort of day, Sarah supposes. Or that sort of year. Lose a friend, gain his dangerous homicidal feral cat of a brother in return.

It distracts her, at least, from the losses to those synapsids. It’s so strange, to think that the creatures who would kill so willingly are closer to them than Sid and Nancy.

It does not, however, distract her from the secondary job of the day: namely, convincing Burton not to put down Princess and the mammoth. She’d known leaving the Kaprosuchus alive would come back to bite her, and yet-

The messages from Jenny and Duncan have become insistent over the last few days, something about a wide-headed wyrm with a familiar name.

She’s needed on duty missions.

She’s needed here, to stand her ground and keep the core team together.

There’s always been something off about Burton, she knows that much- billionaires aren’t ever to be trusted, and billionaires this involved without a clear love of animals and a fascination with paleontology even less so.

Sarah’s not surprised, and she’s needed here, now, to run interference, but she can’t be a hundred different places at once. And so, in her stead, for the next mission or two, Sarah sends Matt, all by himself.

And continues to help Lester argue in favor of the animals.

(The undeniability of the Pleistocene megafauna in Scotland might have pushed the needle in her favor. If Sarah had known that dozens of photos of Megaloceros were the necessary blackmail for keeping Princess alive, she would have procured her blackmail a long time ago.)

* * *

Charlotte Cameron walks into the ARC at the end of the night shift, according to Jess’s star-deprived counterpart. She doesn’t do much, but Sarah still finds her slumped by the coffee machine, her terrifying shadow at her side, somewhere around eight in the morning.

“Long night?”

“We had a fight with Emily,” Charlotte says, “Couldn’t stay there.”

Sarah bites back a million rude little things- like  _ don’t you have a real therapist for this _ and  _ so why did you  _ two _ have to leave the flat, then _ in favor of sipping her caffeinated beverage of choice and trying her best to look sympathetic. She waits for either of them to say something.

“She wants to go back to her own time,” Ethan- Patrick, maybe, she’s still confused on the name front and they haven’t really brought it up with him at all, “I don’t know why!”

“She wants to see her family again, is that so hard to understand?” Charlotte grumbles, “I don’t think she  _ should,  _ frankly, but then she said we were being to codependent and controlling, and that her business was her business and we shouldn’t keep her here just because it’s quote-unquote ‘better here’-”

“This feels like an old argument,” Sarah raplies, sitting sown on the floor in front of them.

“Oh, it  _ is,” _ Charlotte’s shadow grumbles.

“Eth… Patrick, stop acting like she doesn’t have a point. She wants to go home. It’s not a good place for her, but-” Sarah cocks her head to the side. If Charlotte’s making an active effort to switch after the real name reveal, it’s probably polite for her to use Patrick as well.

“She’d have to go back to her husband if she went home!”

“Oh, and what, if there’s a gateway to her time, you’re just going to stab him? Is that what you’re going to do?”

“I don’t know, maybe?”

“Ethan, it’s been  _ ten years! _ You should  _ know _ by now that stabbing someone is not an answer to your problems! Or anyone else’s problems!”

Sarah raises her hands, and moves to leave. This is… not her place. She movies away from the arguing duo, and grabs a bagel.

There’s an anomaly alarm, thank all that is holy. It’s weird, and fuzzy, and keeps shutting off and back on again, but it’s an anomaly alarm nevertheless.

“Yeah?” Sarah asks through the bagel in her mouth as she races over to Jess’s station. She motions for Scott to go check on the couple in the kitchen, and waits for Jess to start talking, before she frowns, and puts down the bagel.

“Witchfield?”

“I… yes, actually,” Jess says, her confusion leaking its way into her voice. Sarah opens the text she’d gotten from Duncan via Jenny most recently, and compares the names.

“There might have been an old incursion, I’ve had people looking in to similar things and this town came up on our animal stories watch list. Duncan- the young man who helped find the Kaprosuchus- has a theory that it’s an amphibian of some kind- a temnospondyl.”

“That  _ what’s _ a temnospondyl?” Jess asks, leaning back in her chair to look at Sarah. Sarah, in turn, narrows her eyes at Jess’s computer screen and says, in the most serious tone she can manage,

“The Witchfield Worm.”

* * *

According to Jenny (and Connor, when Sarah asks), there’s about a dozen actual time periods (well, five if you’re only counting the “big” chunks of time, but many, many more if you consider individual formations and locations and split-spans of a few million years or less) that could be responsible for a man-eating amphibian the size of a large male American Alligator.

Especially if one doesn’t narrow it down for head size, although Jenny says that they can thankfully cross some of the bigger ones off the list- none of the stories have involved gharials or anything else with a long skull, just  _ wide _ ones, which brings up an entirely fresh issue.

“Koolasuchus,” says Connor, on the ride over there, “We end up with Cretaceous anomalies more than we frankly should, and Koolasuchus would be from a Cretaceous anomaly.”

The thing is, he’s not wrong about the over-representation of Cretaceous anomalies in the messes they’ve been facing recently. According to a very exhausted Emily, the anomaly they’d come from was likely the Cretaceous as well, making a significant portion of the large incursions they’ve dealt with as of late from the Cretaceous period, no matter what the specific section was.

“This feels a little like the place where Becker and I found Leo,” Sarah says, looking through the small seaside town, “Groups of two. Matt, go with Connor, it’ll even out the mean level of fighting experience between all four of us.”

Matt smiles at that, and drags Connor along behind him towards where Jess has pointed out the anomaly. Sarah and Abby, on the other hand, go to a bar to look for whoever’s willing to tell them about the creature.

Apparently, it’s already been killing. That’s not something Sarah likes to hear, not at all.

They find a massive thing with an even proportionally-bigger head before long, in a fast-moving river by the coast. Connor’s Koolasuchus identification is correct as it turns out, but it’s Abby- egged on by Sarah- who has the idea to check the sea caves for the anomaly, and, more importantly, to stay in their groups.

It’s Sarah who has the idea to call for backup. Becker’s still off-duty, but she  _ can _ call one Peggy O’Moore, and the soldier answers. The delighted shout of “Peggy! Hunter!” from Connor as the two slide down to the ground is worth all of the hassle of actually getting a signal out to the pair.

The thing is, there’s a juvenile- several juveniles, really- in the water, all two-foot long little things that were clearly moved intentionally to the cleaner fresh water in the back of the cave to get them away from… whatever it was that’s dripping down from the ceiling, Sarah’s not sure, they went down here almost straight away.

“Stripped diesel,” Reid says, sniffing, “Looks like it-”

“It’s reacting with the minerals down here, must be interfering with the anomaly. Of  _ course _ the Koolasuchus moved its young, they’d’ve  _ died _ if they’d been left in the big pool, at least the ones back here are clean,” Connor interrupts, “We’ll have to remove the reactants to get the anomaly to open back up- if we do that, the juveniles- and the adult- will be able to go back home.”

“Poor things, they must be starving. No wonder the temnospondyl has started attacking the local livestock,” Sarah mutters, “But I don’t-”

“The head’s too wide to be responsible for the bite marks on the boy,” Matt concurs, “Same with all of the other human victims. It wouldn’t look like that. It looks more like someone was trying to frame a creature for something they-”

There’s a yell, from outside the sea cave. In a split second, O’Moore and Reid have their EMDs raised, set on a stun that would leave a human unconscious for at least long enough to restrain them securely. Sarah doesn’t miss the outline of O’Moore’s service weapon at her hip- a threat if Sarah’s ever seen one from the woman.

Connor manages to get the anomaly open after a long, tense standoff. The large male temnospondyl crawls through only after his offspring do (Sarah thinks that behavior’s curious, but she’s seen equally dedicated fathers in the animal kingdom so she really shouldn’t be surprised), with a low, squeal-like noise. It’s only after the anomaly shuts just barely behind the amphibian’s tail, finally given the breathing room to contract into itself like it should be, that any of them move.

Matt shoulder-checks the older woman, while O’Moore kicks the son sharply in the chest. The shotgun in their hands is in Matt’s in a blink of an eye.

For not the first time, Sarah is so,  _ so _ grateful that this man is her second in command. She trusts him with her life.

For not the first time, Sarah wonders if he trusts her the same way in return.

There’s still something suspicious, in the way Matt holds himself.

* * *

Sarah and Becker got their invitations to the wedding months ago- they’re still alive, after all, and were legally recognized as such when invitations were going out. Sarah, though, has been so distracted by… well, the ARC opening back up, Connor and Abby’s return, the human incursions, and managing the massive amount of Pleistocene megafauna that they’re all still trying their hardest to hide in Scotland that it’s gotten entirely out of hand, and she’s completely forgotten about it.

The bigger problem is the fact that Matt’s gone behind her back and opened up the cellar anomaly, letting out one exceedingly irritable Hyaenodon.

“And are we absolutely sure that there aren’t any more?” Leo asks from where she’s bandaging up Connor’s arm. Sarah shrugs.

“I don’t know what Matt and Emily were thinking, we promised we’d find her home time anomaly but it’s much, much safer for her to stay around with us until Connor figures out that time period lock,” she replies, jerking her head towards the man, “I’m just glad they  _ told _ us it’s open, but it’s not like we can get another lock until tomorrow morning at the earliest.”

Kumar groans, and returns downstairs to watch-the-open-anomaly duty while Scott clambers upstairs in her stead, running their fingers through their hair.

“I’m getting something to drink. Let Jenny know her wedding venue is compromised. I don’t think we got all of them.”

Sarah winces. This isn’t going to be fun.

(It’s not fun. Fortunately, to distract Jenny, Sarah has absolutely adorable photos of Megaloceros fawns. She also may or may not suggest having the wedding at the northern herd, because having giant prehistoric deer at her wedding sounds amazing to Sarah, but Jenny doesn’t bite, unfortunately.)

(Also fortunately, they manage to wrangle the Hyaenodon back inside. Not soon enough to save Jenny’s wedding, but most of the security staff swarming around are Jenny’s old co-workers too and a happy chirp of their non-disclosure agreements later, the old and intermediate ARC teams are seated in the rows, eyes shining as they watch Jenny glide down the aisle.)

* * *

“So, do you think you’d come back? Not for field work, just for PR,” Sarah assures her. Jenny smiles, and tips her glass of champagne in Sarah’s direction.

“Oh, I’d do more than consider it.”

Sarah laughs.

“You’re coming back?”

“Shh, keep it quiet. We’re going through the paperwork right now to let Michael know,” Jenny replies, “I… I don’t want today to be about creatures, or time travel, or anything.”

“Of course, Jenny. No more anomaly business for today.”

* * *

Matt pulls her aside the day after.

“I… there’s something you need to know,” is what he leads in with, which, in Sarah’s experience, is never a good thing.

It’s not a good thing. It’s a very, very not good thing. Sarah listens to a tale of a planet that’s mostly dead already, a tale of sorrow and desperation and sheer stubbornness, and how Matt was  _ supposed _ to be impartial, do his job, but-

“Matt, humans aren’t impartial creatures. And trust me, I’ll be glad to help save the world with you.”

* * *

There’s something humming under her skin, at the prison, something truthful and correct. The anomaly is a strange one, and Sarah thinks that maybe she’s understood what feels so bizarre about today when Connor opens the new little dating calculator he’s made and- it’s Emily’s time. They can send the young woman  _ home, _ which will inevitably result in grumbling from Charlotte and Patrick but there’s not much they can do otherwise if she doesn’t want to stay.

And then, because anomalies are nothing if not contrary, it spits out something entirely different. Sarah sits with Connor on the floor after they shove the terror bird back through, and frowns.

They’re dealing with the third offshoot anomaly appearance when the anomaly’s glow heightens and swells, like the  _ main _ anomaly is about to spit something out. Matt raises his gun, and Sarah and Connor scramble to their feet in unison.

It’s not a creature.

It’s Danny.

(Matt shoots him anyways.)

* * *

There, of course, is a triumphant reunion of Quinn brothers back at the ARC. Well, it’s triumphant on Danny’s end- the feral cat analogy that Sarah’s been using for Patrick seems particularly fitting at the moment.

It can’t be all good. Emily leaves, and Danny’s on psychiatric leave for at least the next six months, if not longer- a good idea, considering he was apparently trapped in Miocene South America by himself with nothing but terror birds for company after he went through the first anomaly he saw.

He does, however, confirm her suspicions about Burton. Sarah, now newly aware of the… situation, is sure to pass the information on to Matt, and suggests that they, at the very least, bring Abby and Connor in on it.

Connor’s already doing work at Prospero, anyways. He’s the perfect mole for… whatever Burton is planning.

Becker finds out. Becker  _ always _ finds out. As a result, there they sit, all five, discussing the end of the world in the midst of a field full of aurochs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hmmmm... i need to figure out how to put images in here because i have memes from writing this fic that need to be shared


	4. the not-pocalypse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> season four was all buildup, season five hurtled like a freight train. Well, this one's no different. Eh, sort of different. I guess. oh, the fun to be had when you're only working from a single character's point of view.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, hello! I don't know what to put here! It's a little less... oomph than i anticipated, but I hope the ending doesn't fall too flat for y'all.

There are five people in an aurochs field discussing the apocalypse. Why are they in an aurochs field? Because there’s no spy technology in an aurochs field, of course- the cattle would trample the cameras and listening devices. Why do they need to avoid spy technology? Because, according to one Connor Temple, their boss is actively trying to bring about the end of the world.

“If Convergence is supposed to happen, if we’re supposed to just  _ let _ it happen, then anything that Philip does to try to stop it is probably the thing that’s going to trigger- no, Betsy, stop it, I don’t have treats for you today,” Connor says, shoving the Aurochs cow away by her muzzle. She has a calf that’s in the process of weaning, that wanders into the middle of their little ready room and plops herself down by Matt’s legs.

Sarah thinks that the calf has the right idea. Can’t stress out all that much when you’re too busy petting a baby animal that should, by all rights, be extinct. And Aurochs calves are  _ cute. _

“And what  _ is _ he having you do, to try to stop it?” Sarah prods, rubbing her fingers together so the calf will come over. Instead, Betsy lays down, and drops her heavy, heavy head in Sarah’s lap, careful to avoid goring the egyptologist with her sharp horns.

“I… the research he’s been pointing me towards… I’m not sure what it’s moving towards, really, but I can’t exactly  _ stop  _ working on the project right now, because-”

“Because what?” Matt asks. He now has another Aurochs chewing on his hair. Normally, Matt would have told them how stupid they were for sitting in a field full of creatures that could easily kill them in little more than a moment, but he’s too busy explaining what specifically went wrong in his timeline to notice the fact that they’ve been surrounded by curious bovines. Sarah notices, although that’s more the fact that Betsy (who has a completely inaccurate nickname, Sarah has  _ seen _ the Aurochs cow gore a dire wolf that was trying its luck on the fringes of this massive herd, and Sarah  _ knows _ it was her because Betsy’s got a specific set of markings they’ve painted on her horns) is sitting with her head in Sarah’s lap.

“Because if he does, it’ll look suspicious,” Sarah offers. Connor shakes his head.

“No, he uh… he threatened Danny, actually,” the young man says, and Sarah’s heart sinks into the pit of her stomach.

_ “What?” _

“It’s a little hard to explain, but he… might have mentioned that Danny’s not exactly the most  _ stable _ now, and I’m… he implied that it would be easy to get him arrested for fraud, or something like that, I don’t  _ know, _ I just know that you told me he’s up to something and I do  _ not _ trust that man around my friends.”

“I concur,” Sarah grumbles. Betsy snorts, and goes to her feet. Sarah resists the urge to cringe in on herself. This was a  _ terrible _ idea. They might be a fair distance away from the rest of the herd, but Betsy could still kill any of them at any moment.

Sarah has a lot of terrible ideas- she’ll freely admit that much. This one, however-

“Sarah!” Becker hisses, shoving her arm. Sarah resists the instinct to jolt, for fear of startling the massive animal beside her.

“What?”

“We need a plan,” Matt says, “I… to be entirely honest, I’ve been winging it this entire time. In the best case scenario, we can convince Philip to back off- I’m from the future and coming to stop him, he’s made jokes about that sort of thing before, but-”

“Chances are, he wouldn’t believe you, thinking you were just from a different company attempting sabotage,” Sarah mutters, digging her hands into the dirt, before looking up, eyes narrowed, “We need to talk to Danny.”

“What about?”

“He… doesn’t trust Burton, as he’s made it  _ incredibly _ obvious, but he doesn’t  _ know _ the man, and he’s acting like he knows  _ something. _ If we figure out what Danny knows, we can go on from there. Connor, once we find out what Danny has on him, you try to get any more specifics- see what the specific project is actually for. Keep complying for now, but try to prioritize gathering data. Tell us the second you find something out.”

“So we’re just watching and waiting?” Matt asks, “Look, Sarah, it’s taken me a lot to learn to trust you with this- it’s taken me a long time to learn to trust  _ all _ of you with this- but are you sure the watching and waiting plan is a good idea? We don’t have much time left, that much has been made pretty clear.”

“I’m sorry, Matt, but we can’t risk him going underground and going through with it anyways. Connor, if you think the testing is going somewhere unsafe, you pull the plug, and you pull it  _ fast. _ If it’s dangerous, if it might spin things out of control- just backtrack on all of your research projects, scramble findings, anything.”

“Alright,” Connor says, “I can do that. I can do that! It’s going to take a bit of- but I can do that, yeah.”

“We’ve got your back, Conn,” Abby says, lacing her fingers with his. Sarah can’t help but smile at the both of them.

Her heart is beating jackrabbit-fast, but they can do this.  _ She _ can do this. They just have to… prevent the end of the world. For the second time in less than two years. Yeah, they can do this.

* * *

“So, Danny,” she says to the man in question, trying to seem inconspicuous. It’s a nice day out- not too warm, and not too wet, but Sarah’s not here to talk about the weather.

Danny seems… more closed-off, than usual, quieter than Danny Quinn has ever had any right to be. But Sarah knows that getting involved in  _ something _ will lift his spirits, even if it’s only barely.

She’s off-duty when she gets the call about bugs underground, but apparently Matt has already stepped in and said he’d handle it and that Sarah is definitely needed  _ elsewhere _ at the moment, and Sarah can’t exactly get up and get him to relinquish control because if she does then Danny will want to join her and she can’t exactly let him get into trouble, the man’s still got a broken arm in a cast from the Pliocene for crying out loud.

“What did you want to ask me? Was it about Miocene South America? Miocene South America was  _ amazing, _ except for the nearly dying all of the time, you would have loved it. Except when you didn’t. And you’re leading the team now, which is lovely, it’s good to see you out in the field, I know you loved field work when it was… the old setup, it’s good to see you’re getting to do this more often-”

“Danny, Danny,” Sarah laughs, “Slow down. It’s good to catch up, but I’m actually here on serious business.”

“Oh, good, I have serious business too,” Danny says, placing his head in his hands, “I… I need a place to stay.”

“Aren’t you staying with your brother and Charlotte?” Sarah asks with a frown. Danny’s hand snakes up into his hair and scratches at it awkwardly.

“About that… Charlotte’s said if Patrick and I get into another fight she’s going to kick me out,” he says, “And I… look. It’s not like I  _ want _ to fight with him. He’s my baby brother, back from the dead, I want him to be healthy and happy but he’s just so… violent, sometimes, and he’s always angry with me and I never really understand it.”

“Mhm,” Sarah hums, nodding, “Alright, you can stay at mine.”

“Aren’t Becker, Connor, and Abby already staying at yours?” Danny asks with a frown.

“Yes.”

“Sarah, are you sure? That’s a lot of people to have in one house and I… don’t exactly sleep through the night anymore.”

“Join the club.”

Danny’s eyebrows knit together, and he cocks his head to the side like a confused puppy.

“What do you mean.”

“None of us sleep through the night, not anymore,” Sarah replies, “Becker’s got… I can’t even count how many things it could have been for him, I essentially fucking killed someone, Danny, and Connor, Abby… I don’t know what happened to them, in the Cretaceous, but it’s not  _ good. _ And I really shouldn’t be telling you this, it wasn’t even what I was going to  _ ask _ you about, but really, you can stay with us.”

“So, what were you going to ask me?”

Sarah startles, sitting up sharply.

“Have we paid the bill yet?” she asks, “It’s rude to dine and dash.”

“Sarah. What were you going to ask me?” Danny repeats, a smile quirking upwards at the corners of his mouth like he senses the danger they’re both about to throw themselves into.

“Not. Here,” she hisses in reply. The bill is paid. Danny nods, and stands, following Sarah as she casts a careful eye around for familiar faces.

“Alright, what is it that you know about Philip Burton?”

“Ohoho, something  _ is _ going on with him, I  _ knew _ it!” Danny whisper-yells victoriously, “He was noted as a person of interest in the files Helen kept with her.”

The recognition sparks in the back of Sarah’s head.

“Oh! He was in the notebook, too, but just mentioned as someone who’d be smart enough to actually do something about the anomalies,” she replies, “Danny, what did she say about-”

“She  _ knew _ him,” Danny insists, “Personally. Files implied she  _ told _ him.”

Sarah stands rooted to the spot. She wishes, dearly, for Rex to be with her in that moment, for the lizard’s familiar weight to act as a grounding rod for the lightning in her brain.

“And he doesn’t even know why that’s so dangerous,” she breathes, “Or he knows, and he just doesn’t  _ care- _ he probably thinks he’s  _ special _ -”

“I still don’t know what he’s up to,” Danny says apologetically, “And something tells me you don’t want me involved-”

“We don’t,” Sarah interrupts.

“I know. And I respect that you want to protect me, Sarah, I think it’s admirable of you.  _ But _ I do think you  _ are _ looking for the real information, wherever you might find it, and I do think you’re going to be in danger, and I do  _ know _ I’m not going to let that happen.”

Sarah’s smile softens. Her comm buzzes, and she curses.

“What, Jess?”

_ “Matt said not to call you, but Sarah,” _ Jess says with a hitched sob, and Sarah immediately straightens,  _ “They took Connor.” _

_ “Who _ took Connor?” Sarah asks, mind immediately jumping to Burton. Danny’s alarm is visible, too.

_ “The bugs. Matt and Abby said they were probably from the future, but them and Becker, they went after them, and I- They  _ found  _ Connor, but-” _

“Jess, breathe,” Sarah orders, “Tell O’Moore to meet me, and tell Leo to start prepping for emergency care. Do we know if they’re venomous?”

“If what’s venomous?” Danny asks.

_ “Sarah, is there someone else with you?” _

“Danny, but he’s In The Know, he’s safe. Jess, give me whatever information that you can.”

_ “Alright. O’Moore’s on her way. Matt says if the bugs wake up, they could start tunneling through the city, and Connor… Connor’s going to blow them up,” _ Jess says. Her voice sounds terrifyingly empty, like she’s forgotten how to inject her usual charm into it.

“What aren’t you telling me, Jess?” Sarah asks, tone sharp.

_ “Connor’s  _ inside  _ the building, Matt- Matt just went get in to get him,” _ Jess replies. Sarah’s heart drops like a stone.

“No, no, not again,” she growls, “I am not letting  _ anyone _ else die on my watch.”

She’s running to meet O’Moore, Danny close on her heels.

They make it right around when the building explodes.

Later, Sarah will curse Matt out for not warning her, will snap at Becker for even daring to press that button, will hiss at Lester that he shouldn’t have ordered Becker to do that, but now, right now, with smoke rising from shattered windows-

It’s a record, how quickly she sees her lunch again.

* * *

It’s become tradition, on not-good nights, to sleep all in one pile, hiding in the safety of being one of several, of not being  _ alone. _ Miraculously, Connor and Matt made it out with few injuries beyond some mild asphyxiation on Connor’s part, which means they’re healthy enough for the cuddle pile.

Danny joins them, shaking faintly. That’s not a surprise- he needs them just as much as they need him, at least for tonight. No, there’s a far more surprising addition to the cuddle pile.

Notably, a man from the future by the name of Matt Anderson.

He tucks himself in the corner at first, but the poor man is no match for the fact that Danny Quinn is an octopus of a man and more than happy to share in being touch-starved and in the vicinity of other physically affectionate people again.

Nobody judges anyone when they’re all woken up by screaming. They all silently vow to take it to their graves when they realize the person screaming was Matt.

* * *

“Oh, right,” Connor says when they’re all awake somewhere around three in the morning thanks to Abby’s third nightmare of the night and have collectively decided it’s not worth it to try to go back to sleep, “Philip’s trying to make a giant man-made anomaly and harvest energy from it forever. I think that’s the thing tha's gonna start the apocalypse Matt mentioned.”

“The  _ what.” _ Danny says flatly over his mug of… something, but Sarah’s absolutely, one-hundred percent sure it is caffeinated.

“Oh, right. Matt’s from the future. The world’s gonna end. Philip’s probably going to cause it. He wanted me to help.”

“ _ What?” _ Danny repeats.

“Is this what breaks you, Danny?” Sarah teases, “Sure, time portals are understandable. World-ending Time Schemes are understandable. Your little brother getting lost in time and popping back out as a homicidal feral cat, fine. Your new boss being shady, sure. But people from the future?  _ That’s _ where you draw the line?”

Danny shakes his head.

“I… we saw the future. We didn’t see any people,” he replies. Becker snorts.

“Different timeline, Danny. And besides, we don’t know that was what the  _ entire _ world was like, we just know that’s what London was like in the timeline where Christine’s experiments were allowed to continue.”

“Oh, good point. Johnson’s death might have been the changepoint,” Sarah points out with a snap of her fingers.

“Still. Armageddon? Really?” Danny asks. Matt nods, glaring down at his mug like it’ll shatter if he looks at it hard enough.

“It wasn’t pretty. I grew up in the After. There weren’t many people left, and where we  _ were _ surviving, we mostly lived underground. Outside… outside was a hellscape. When I got here, to this time, I… it was so green. I keep hearing it was greener Before, wilder, but every time I step out into the woods, or even see a little planted garden on someone’s windowsill…”

Sarah grips his hand tightly. Connor leans into the shoulder opposite.

“Once we stop your time from happening altogether,” Becker says, clearly trying to keep the tears out of his voice, “You’ll get one of those little window-gardens for yourself, alright? I’m pretty sure Danny had an impressive garden of his own, he could show you how.”

* * *

“Hey, Sarah?” Abby says later that morning, bringing her open laptop over to the couch, “Didn’t Emily have one of those long fancy noblewoman names?”

Sarah frowns, and leans over Abby to see the screen.

“Why?”

Abby’s fingers trace a scanned photo of a newspaper article, easily over a hundred years old going by the typeface and the quality of the paper it was printed on.

“Look at this one, here.”

The bizarre combination of middle names and the fancy maiden name covered up by her husband’s moniker of “merchant” isn’t enough to hide her fate.

“We have to save her,” Abby whispers, and Sarah nods.

“No question.”

* * *

The next week, Matt and Abby and Connor are on a submarine. Sarah isn’t jealous. She’s  _ not. _ But there’s a limited number of people who can go on a submarine, and Matt’s a military man where she isn’t, which means she doesn’t get to pull rank on a collective of naval idiots with nearly as much expertise.

Therefore, Sarah’s stuck on land, and Lester, realizing her pacing a hole in their floor isn’t going to help them all that much, orders her out of the room. It  _ is  _ a routine anomaly closure, after all, save for the fact that it’s underwater.

And besides, she’s got snooping to do with Danny’s help.

“You know, I think it would be a  _ good _ idea to tell other countries about the anomalies,” Sarah grumbles, “It’s not like we can show up unannounced to Argentina and deal with a ground sloth on-site without questions. I know we’ve done it before, but we have more advanced detectors, now, and tighter restrictions. We’re getting alerts once a week if not every other day, and that’s only counting the restrictions we have to only interact with anomalies that are directly within our territory or involve our vessels.”

“And?” Danny asks, fiddling with the zoom on his binoculars.

“ _ And, _ while I think it’s irresponsible to tell the general public about it- can you  _ imagine _ the poaching, there is some… merit, to telling other nations. I know it’s not Lester’s decision, but-”

“But nothing, Sarah,  _ look  _ at this!” Danny hisses, pointing, “Do you know how many health and safety regulations that man is violating?”

“Danny-”

“Sarah, what are you planning to  _ do? _ Either you put your money where your mouth is and try to get him arrested or get him to drop the project, or you do nothing and hope there’s something big enough to sabotage eventually. You need to drop the secrecy one day or another.”

Sarah’s shoulders drop.

“You’re right.”

“You see, I knew you would say that, but really, Sarah- wait-”

“I said, you’re right. Our plan isn’t much more developed than ‘watch and wait’ at this point, and we need a better one. Any ideas?”

“We need to confront him,” Danny growls. Sarah nods.

“Well, that’s a  _ start.” _

* * *

Sarah is on her way back to the ARC after Leo sends her a silent SOS when she gets the call from Lester.

“ _ Don’t _ ,” the man says, so quiet it hurts, “ _ Don’t come back, not yet.” _

“What happened?” Sarah asks, “Are they alright?”

_ “Well, it depends what time periods your definition of ‘alright’ extends to, really.”  _ Lester replies. He must be trying to avoid the attention he’d get from the Admiral at full volume. Sarah narrows her eyes.

“That’s why Leo asked me back. Lester, I’ve worked with you for over a year, I can hear it in your voice. There’s something else.”

_ “Yes, there is,” _ Lester concurs like it physically pains him,  _ “The Admiral… wants to nuke the anomaly.” _

“What?” Sarah hisses, “I’m coming back-“

_ “You will do nothing of the sort,” _ Lester replies,  _ “These last few months, you’ve been doing an admirable job as the field team leader, but I’ve worked with three- technically four- of you people, now. I won’t let two of you people into a confined space with someone you’d think of as a threat to your team, I know how… attached... the lot of you can get.” _

Sarah resists the urge to say  _ “Matt and I are in an enclosed space with Burton at least once a week and he’s not dead yet,” _ but that would require an explanation that Sarah’s not willing to give just yet.

“What?” Danny asks, and she fills him in. She can  _ hear _ the grumble of irritation rolling deep in his chest.

“They can’t do that,” he whines, defeated.

“They can, unfortunately,” Sarah replies.

“What if they completely alter the course of evolution?” Danny ponders aloud, which sets Sarah off.

Sometimes, she wonders if, instead of actually changing the past or the future, they just splinter off into different little timelines. Clearly, Danny had managed to do his job, because he and Connor and Abby had still managed to make it back to the same timeline that they’d come from, but…

Therefore, if that’s the case, as long as their three make it out of the Jurassic before the nuke is detonated, they’ll still remain in the same timeline as they’re not there to witness a new one.

She looks out over the city, in the general direction of Abby, Connor, and Matt, and  _ hopes. _

* * *

Sarah and Danny just barely catch the tail end of the Prime Minister chewing out the Admiral. The corners of Lester’s eyes crinkle in a half-smile as he acknowledges them, and the man beckons them over with a jerk of his head.

“Admiral Marston, these two are Doctor Sarah Page and Danny Quinn, the current and former field team leaders. Now, I asked them not to come in for fear of either one of them biting your head off, either proverbially or literally I can’t be sure- you see, they’re both rather  _ attached _ to the poor souls in the submarine you nearly killed.”

Sarah knows Lester well enough to tell that he’s having far,  _ far _ too much fun with all of this, but she’s not going to ruin it either.

“Danny, do you want to take this? I know you’ve been itching for something to do in the last few days,” Sarah hums, knowing full well he was just with her spying on Burton not even three hours ago.

“Oh, do I  _ ever,” _ Danny says, cracking his knuckles. Sarah catches Becker’s eyes on the other side of the room, and holds back a laugh.

Before-The-ARC Sarah would have probably considered letting her more intimidating friends loom over people that dared put any of her other friends in danger, but Before-The-ARC Sarah didn’t exactly have many friends that weren’t clients ready to shell out cash for positive identification of artefacts, so. One up on her.

She makes sure to shoot a glare at the Admiral, just in case Danny’s too soft with him.

That night’s another cuddle pile night. Matt seems more fragile than normal, aside from the obvious. Sarah’s not surprised to find out why.

“We’re going to save her,” she says, “I promise, Matt. We’re going to save her.”

“Hell, we could probably put Charlotte and Patrick on it if we wanted to,” Danny jokes, as if he’s not stressed out of his mind. Sarah frowns.

“What if we did?”

“Did what?” Abby asks.

“We could ask Charlotte and Patrick to find her,” Sarah says, “It’s not fair to them, not really, but they  _ would _ agree.”

Becker frowns in return.

“You’re sure they would?” he asks. Sarah nods.

“They didn’t want her to go in the first place.”

The whole group sighs in unison.

* * *

“This was a terrible idea. Who came up with this idea?” Sarah hisses to Matt as they slink through the streets of Victorian London.

“If I’m remembering correctly, you did,” Matt replies with a smile. Charlotte snorts. Patrick just glares at the both of them, but Patrick’s always glaring, so Sarah really doesn’t mind it all that much anymore.

“I was tired and sad. Matt, you should know better by now than to listen to what I say when I’m tired and sad.”

“Oh, I do know better, I just agreed with you this time,” the man hums. Sarah resists the overwhelming urge to facepalm. She doubts eighteen-sixties London would appreciate it.

“To be fair, we  _ are _ mostly here for the raptor,” Charlotte says, “Well, you two are. We’re here for Emily, but that’s our business.”

Four people versus one wolf-sized heavily feathered raptor is not a fair fight by any definition of the word, but they didn’t bring four people to fight a raptor.

No, they brought four people to fight Emily Merchant’s absolute bastard of a husband. And now, apparently, the quack doctor he’s brought with him.

Sarah takes great pleasure in watching Emily kick him so hard in the chest he goes tumbling back into the anomaly. She doesn’t see much of the younger woman after that- she’s too busy being hugged by a worried-sick Charlotte and Patrick- but she gets the feeling that the help wasn’t as unappreciated as she’d thought it’d be initially.

And just like that, Emily Merchant’s future changes. And the world doesn’t fall apart. How lovely.

Now, they just have to pull that off again, with the coming apocalypse.

According to Connor, when they get back, that’s going to be… difficult.

* * *

“What do you  _ mean _ you opened a man-made anomaly?” Sarah hisses once they’re back home. Connor puts his hands up.

“You  _ said _ not to draw suspicion to ourselves, and April  _ knew _ that  _ I _ knew more than I was letting on. I managed to argue that we needed to keep it open and closed in short bursts so nothing untoward comes through- I used that nasty fungus as an example- but… I didn’t have any other excuses, nothing prepared, and you all  _ know _ how I get-”

“We do,” the rest of the group, Sarah included, chorus in unison. Abby taps her foot along the ground.

“If that’s the same April I met… she threatened me, threatened my job. She definitely wasn’t there as an assistant, she was there as a plant to make sure you got the job that Philip  _ wanted _ you to do, done.”

“We have to confront him,” Sarah says, “There isn’t another option. I don’t know  _ how _ we’d do it, but we need to confront that man, or people are going to  _ die.” _

Matt nods, eyes sharp.

“We can’t exactly kidnap him,” Danny offers, “So what  _ are _ our options?”

Abby clears her throat, and pulls out a whiteboard and a dry erase marker out of thin air.

“Alright, so,  _ first _ of all-”

* * *

They do actually start off with a kidnapping plan. It’s thwarted, because those sorts of things always are, by the anomaly Connor had oh-so-helpfully figured out how to generate spilling out three dozen flesh-eating beetles from Matt’s future before Connor can figure out how to cut the energy. They spend the next six hours running around killing bugs, which is  _ not _ Sarah’s idea of a nice day.

The fact of the matter is, April- and by extension, Burton- nearly killed them. That’s what it was. It was a death threat, and they’ll treat it as such.

Jess is… shaken, to say the least. They don’t find out  _ why _ until a few hours later, when the poor girl sneaks Sarah the audio file.

The fact that there’s an incineration backup system in place shouldn’t surprise her. The fact that Burton would  _ use _ it… well, that’s more so. He’s been upgraded from ‘prideful scientist playing with fire’ to ‘man it was right to distrust all along’ in the back of her mind.

“We don’t have to mention the future,” she says to Matt, “But we  _ do _ need to talk to him.”

* * *

Sarah really shouldn’t be all that surprised that Burton practically laughs her and Connor out of the room. But the Egyptologist can pull a figure that somewhat resembles someone intimidating once every blue moon, which means she can still stand her ground for the roughly five minutes it takes before Burton  _ throws _ her out.

“You really think you should be listening to Helen Cutter over us?” she asks, finally, gritting her teeth, “Philip, Connor’s not an idiot. Danny’s not an idiot. I’m  _ certainly _ not an idiot. You’ve known about time travel for some time, yes, but I know people, and I know you were going to kill all of us today if it didn’t go your way.”

Burton smiles the creepy smile of a man far too wealthy and far too drunk on his own power.

Sarah makes the wise decision to step back for a moment. No, not step back, actually- she runs.

She’s not surprised when she hears that the project is going forwards, just  _ exceedingly  _ disappointed.

“On to Stage Two: Sabotage, I suppose,” she says with a sigh, and calls Charlotte, Patrick, and Emily.

They’re going to need more people if they’re going to do this right.

* * *

Stage Two is going rather well, all things considered, when everything else around them starts falling apart like a jenga tower with one block too many removed from the base.

Namely, Convergence absolutely screws them over. Sarah will never forget the haunting sound of a Gorgonopsid screaming in her face. Or hundreds of loudly yelling man-sized penguins clogging up traffic. Or even the dozens of tiny, tiny horse ancestors that race through the shopping centre that Sarah used to go to before her life turned into one massive carnival.

The only reaction she has to the Pleistocene anomaly opening up again, really, is an “oh”. She can’t even properly appreciate that they’d kicked off Convergence with a  _ bang _ in the form of a  _ Tyrannosaurus rex _ , because she’s too busy dealing with the fact that oh, okay, there was an  _ Argentinosaurus _ in  _ Sydney, Australia _ of all places and honestly, while Sarah thinks they should have given up secrecy years ago, she would appreciate the anomalies having a little more  _ tact. _

In the most fitting of ways, Sarah doesn’t even notice that the New Dawn project has gone online and then been stopped (beyond, of course, the closing and then subsequent re-opening of  _ all of these anomalies really, Jenny, what are we going to do) _ until a victorious Connor and a suspiciously bloody-looking Patrick and Emily prance into the ARC sometime around three o’clock the next morning.

Leo, as always, drags them into the packed medbay, because that little anomaly of Connor’s had opened up again (well, again again- it had closed during what Sarah would later assume was the time the giant man-made anomaly was open) except this time it had let something resembling a blobfish with razor-sharp teeth out into the bullpen and Scott had nearly lost their leg and Kumar had nearly lost her fingers.

Sarah doesn’t know  _ how, _ given that it didn’t have functioning legs and just sort of… flopped around, but she tells the story with all of her usual flair when they make it home the night after next, finally able to rest after three straight days of nonstop anomalies.

She’s the last to fall asleep that night, surrounded by people she loves so dearly.

It’s really not a bad thing, that Sarah Page cares so much.

**Author's Note:**

> Alright, I'm an old hat at this now, so I know this one's going at the end of the fic. Kudos, comment, yadda yadda, but more importantly: be sure to take a break and take a nap! I know some people reading this note are probably as dead tired as I am, especially with college here in the States starting right around now. Yeah, guys, it's a big deal, and you should be proud of yourselves, but please get some rest and get some food in you!


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